


The Omega Belt

by Suzariah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Demons, Explicit Language, Familiars, M/M, Sexy Times, Soul Bond, Telepathy, Violence of the avian nature, Witchcraft, familiar AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzariah/pseuds/Suzariah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and his Familiar, Benny, work for a demon hunting organization called The Belt. Run by Lucifer, The Belt is the only thing separating demons from humanity and his brother, Sam.  At least, that's what Dean thinks until he meets Castiel, whose wise observations bring him to question the motives of his superiors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boss's Brother

**Author's Note:**

> This will update once a week. Hopefully. I'm hoping to update again sometime before Sunday to get the ball rolling, first chapter is just an introduction of sorts. If for some reason it doesn't update by next Wednesday night and you're still wondering where Cas is, then just send me a few asks on my tumblr telling me to stop being lazy. Or insult me profusely, that works too, most of the time.
> 
> Thank you so much to my friend/beta, greenk.

 

There’s something to be said about jazz music. Dean’s not much of a fan, but there is something calming about the gentle piano music playing in Luke’s office. It seems unusual for Luke; he reminds Dean of a coyote or maybe a snake, less like the smooth, cat-like music that plays through the old record player.

“Dean?” Luke says, catching his distraction. “You like jazz?”

Dean shrugs. “Not really.”

Luke smiles, his too-white teeth brightening the dark shadows in his office. “Right, you’re more of a classic rock guy.”

He’s not sure how Luke knows that, but his knowledge of seemingly everything has become less and less surprising over the years. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“It fits you,” Luke says before gesturing back to the map of Lawrence and Kansas City. He has two red circles on the map marking where Dean should head next. There’s a demon infestation in one of Luke’s old nightclubs. It’s been abandoned for a while, but he estimates there’s about ten demons hiding out there, planning some sort of ritual. The other is in Kansas City, near the docks. Demons have been spotted dumping bodies into Lake Tapawingo. Dean is to investigate with Michael of all people. Dean should be ‘honored,’ but he’d honestly rather be doing anything else than ganking demons with someone of higher rank.

“Michael should be here any minute, bastard’s always late.” Luke grumbles, and a moment later the door slams open, a very disheveled looking Michael striding through with a bird on his shoulder. One of the bird’s wings is bloodied, making the black feathers look as though they’re caked with tar, while Michael has a mean looking cut across his forehead.

Luke grins widely. “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

Michael’s frown becomes more pronounced. “I’m not the devil here, Luci.”

“Don’t call me that in front of our third in command here or your bird.”

Benny has been mostly silent throughout the whole meeting, but now Dean feels Benny’s displeasure at the presence of another Familiar. Dean can feel the slight shift in his weight, it seems loud considering how still he’s been. Benny doesn’t like working with other Familiars. Dean doesn’t get it, but he remembers him mumbling something about magical mix-ups. Dean doesn’t see a problem though; another Familiar has always proved to be helpful, although he’s not sure how Michael hunts so well with a little birdy helping him out. It’s not like birds are great fighters, unlike Benny’s jaws, which are a great help in a fight, especially considering he has demon banishing sigils engraved into his teeth.  Not only that, but as a human, Benny packs one hell of a punch.

“Oh, Winchester is third in command now?” Michael says as if he is surprised. He knows Dean’s been aiming for this exact spot since he started. “Good for you.”

“Thanks,” Dean replies without emotion.

“You’re still under my authority though, so keep that in mind when we’re in Kansas City.”

 _Of course_ he will. “Yes sir.”

Michael sees something in his gaze that sets him off. “I’m serious Dean. It’s for your own protection.” 

He rolls his eyes but nods. Benny growls lowly, either to tell Dean to do what he’s told or to convey his equal displeasure of being outranked, Dean’s not sure. They’re still working on the whole animal-to-human communication thing. Though, considering Benny’s usual behavior Dean guesses it’s the former.

“A Rottweiler huh? No wonder you’re third in command.”

“Benny’s a good soldier and I’m good at killing demons, that’s why I’m here.”

Luke makes a face at Dean addressing Benny by his name, but Dean refuses to call him anything else. He’ll never understand Lucifer’s blatant disrespect for Familiars.

“You know, Michael, Dean’s never seen your crow in action, this should be interesting,”  Luke says.

“Very.”

Dean chuckles, “What’s a crow gonna do? Peck the demons to death?”

That sends Luke into full-blown hysterics, which for him is just two loud coughs of laughter followed by a wide smile. “That’s a good one Dean. Perhaps you should teach him to do that, Michael, just in case he ever gets stuck in that form.”

Michael scowls and Dean feels a little bad for a second. He didn’t mean to embarrass him—or his Familiar for that matter. Well, he kind of did, but not on purpose. Either way, he got a few points for making the boss laugh.

“For one, he’s a raven. Two, he’s a much better fighter than you could ever be.” Michael says sternly, anger lining his tone. His Familiar caws in agreement.

Wow, touchy. “I’m sure he is. It was just a joke.” 

 _Insulting your colleague’s Familiar, off to a great start, Dean_ he thinks. God, how can he be this big of an idiot.  He’s going to have to room with this dude for at least two days. If Michael insulted Benny he’d have the same reaction. Of course Dean just has to open his big goddamn mouth and-

“Dean,” Michael says, interrupting his thoughts. “You good to go on Thursday?”

Dean shakes himself of his thoughts. Michael’s just gonna have to nut up and deal with it anyway if he doesn’t like Dean. “Yeah…yeah, I’m good. Thursday’s fine.”

“Are you going to take care of the problem here in Lawrence tonight then? Thursday doesn’t give him much time, Michael. After all, he is still very yo--“

Dean interrupts Luke, “I got it. It’ll get done tonight.”

Not that he doesn’t appreciate the concern, but a couple demons all huddled into some abandoned nightclub shouldn’t be too much of a problem, he’s got this. Besides, they’re complete idiots to think they could hide from Lucifer right under his nose.

xxx

“Do you really think you can find him?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, Mom.” Sam smiles, gives her a hug. “We’ll see.”

“Alright, honey. Let me know if you find anything on Dean. I’d love to meet him.”

Sam laughs. He doesn’t even know if Dean’s alive, let alone if he’s willing to see him. If he is alive and out there, Sam doubts that he’d want to even talk to him. But instead, Sam says, “We’ll find him,” and packs his bags into the trunk. Jess is in the passenger’s seat, smiling widely at the thought of a road trip. They’re stopping at her parents along the way. If he’s being honest, that’s what he’s really nervous about on this trip. Jess’s parents are great, but who knows what they’re going to say when he tells them he’s marrying her.

“Sure you want to go all the way to Lawrence, Kansas with me, babe?” he jokes as he turns on the ignition.

“Of course. I’d go anywhere with you, ” she replies in a cheesy, dramatic voice.

“Fine, then we need to make a stop at Wal-Mart.”

Jess makes a face. “Except there.”

“Too bad, but really, we have to make a stop there to get a GPS system or something because I have no idea how to get to Lawrence.”

“We could, you know, use a map.”

“Do you not remember the last time we tried to use a map? We ended up in Oregon, Jess.”

“Is that not where we were headed?” Jess muffles her laughter behind her hand as Sam reaches to cup her face in his hands.

“Las Vegas is in the complete other direction.” 

“Well, we had fun anyway.”

Sam smiles. “We did.”  He crosses the distance between them and gives her a small kiss on the lips. “But we are on a bit of a time table now. We have what, three weeks?”

“Plenty of time to get lost.” She smirks and leans her forehead against his.

The pressure of affection building in Sam’s chest is interrupted by the sound of his mother slamming the screen door. He and Jess laugh at the sound of his mother yelling from the doorway, “Stop messing around you two! Just leave already!”

“Fine, fine.” 

He and Jess wave as he pulls out of the driveway. His Mom is in the window the whole time, watching them until the house is no longer in sight.

“So, want me to get out the map?”

Sam smirks. “No, we’re getting the stupid GPS system.”

“Fine.”

They do stop at Wal-Mart, but Sam goes in alone to buy a Garmin, and because he’s so whipped, he buys Jess a chocolate bar for the road.

“Thanks,” she says when he’s back in the car and hooking up the stupid GPS system. It takes a few minutes to configure and then they’re back on the road.

“Oh I almost forgot,” she says, reaching in her book bag to pulls out a pack of Skittles and a thick folder of documents.

“You got me Skittles?”

“And tons of research on your brother,” she says, opening the folder to reveal page after page of anything related to a Dean Winchester.

“Thanks, where’d you find all of that?”

“I know a guy.”

“What guy is able to find all of that, when the only thing I could ever find was where my house burned down?”

“Ash. You met him. He’s the tech management guy at the firm.”

Oh, him. Sam did meet him once when he was having problems with his laptop.

“Did you ask him for all this?”

“Not really. He saw me looking up the name and basically offered to find anything I wanted. Smart guy.”

“He probably did it because he has a crush on you,” Sam teases, though he feels a little uneasy. Finding Dean might be possible now, and Sam has yet to plan a scenario where he actually does find Dean. What will he say anyway? ‘Hey I’m your long lost brother that you didn’t even know existed, how’s life?’ Yeah, that’s not gonna go well.

“Pretty sure he likes some other chick, but whatever. It was nice of him, didn’t even charge me or anything.”

“Very nice of him.”

Only a few hours have passed when Jess finds something, a phone number of one of Dean’s old contacts apparently. Not only that, but he’s actually alive and currently in Lawrence according to Jess.

“Look, it says he’s living with Bobby Singer. There’s even a phone number.”

“I can’t look right now, Jess. I’m driving. How on earth is there a phone number? How good is this Ash guy? Because the documents I got were about as vague as they come. No legal guardian, no phone numbers, just a name and a blurry picture.”

“It looks like Dean was arrested once, all the information’s here.”

Oh great, his brother’s a criminal. “What was the charge?”

“Trespassing.”

A moment later Jess is getting out her phone and dialing.

“Who are you calling?”

“Bobby Singer.”

Sam’s stomach drops. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

He can hear the phone ringing, shit. What’s he going to say? What’s _she_ going to say?

“Jess please,” he begs as she puts it on speaker phone.

Someone answers, and a gruff voice comes through the line, “Hello?”

Sam’s grip on the wheel tightens. “Uh…Hello, is this Bobby Singer?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“Sam…Sam Milligan.”

“That sounds familiar,” Bobby says, pauses for a moment. That makes Sam nervous. How would this guy know Sam exists when he didn’t know Dean even existed until last month? “Wait, Sam Winchester?”

“Yeah, that was my original name.” Sam was actually surprised when he first saw that name. It sounded so…fitting. Though, he’d never tell his Mom that.

“Boy, how in the hell did you get this number? You lookin’ for Dean?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Jess is grinning excitedly from the passenger seat. Sam on the other hand feels like he has a rock in his throat. From the way things are going now, it looks like this so called search for his brother isn’t even a search at all.

“Dean’ll be really happy to hear from you, boy.  I’ll tell him you called.”

Sam pauses, unsure if he should say he’s about eleven hours from Lawrence now, but Jess mouths for him to continue. “I’m actually on my way to Lawrence. I was going to look for him.”

There’s a long pause on Bobby’s end before he says, “Hold on. I’ll give ya my address.”

 


	2. The Skilled Aviator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone reading. Here's the second chapter a day earlier than planned, mostly because I always forget I have class on Wednesdays. Might change update day to Tuesdays
> 
> Many thanks again to greenk for beta-ing.

Twenty people saved in under five minutes. That has to be a new record.

“Nice one, Dean,” Benny says, patting him on the shoulder. “That was really something, not one casualty.”

Dean smirks. “Yeah didn’t even need your fangs for this one.”

“Good thing too, demons taste like shit.”

Dean laughs at that, and they go to survey the damage. Most people are unconscious, understandably after being possessed by a demon, but there’s one little girl in the back corner, rocking back in forth and staring at the wall.

“Poor kid,” Dean says with something akin to pain in his chest. The worst thing is when a demon possesses a child. Even worse is when the child doesn’t make it.

“You okay little buddy?”  Benny asks her, the usual gruffness in his voice absent. The little girl responds with a slight tilt of her head, but otherwise keeps to her corner.

“Time for me to use all this cute and cuddliness for something useful, right?” Benny smirks and the next moment he’s taking on his Familiar form. Dean still finds it creepy as always, but when Benny trots up to where the little girl is, she doesn’t flinch back. Dean wouldn’t consider a Rottweiler to be the most looking friendly dog, but she calms instantly when he lays his head in her lap.

“Nice work, Benny. I’ll call the police, and they’ll come pick her and the others up. You gonna stick around?”

The only answer he gets is a slight wag of Benny’s tail, which he guesses means yes. They really need to develop a system sooner or later.

“Fine, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.” Dean waves goodbye and picks up the CD player responsible for tonight’s success. He’d recorded some old-as-dirt exorcism he read in one of Bobby’s books earlier in the week on impulse, and now he’s glad he did.  All he did was throw the CD player in through the window. Why they didn’t run from the sound, he isn’t sure.

He contemplates why they didn’t on the way back to the Impala. It’s strange for demons to roll over so willingly. When he was planning this mission, the recording was only supposed to be a distraction, not the solution.

“Nice work tonight.”

Dean looks up to find Michael leaning against his baby.

“Off the car,” he growls.

Michael rolls his eyes, but leans away. Dean glances to where Michael was once pressed to its metal framework. Maybe he should give her a wash later.

“Why don’t you use magic? It’s strange…barely see any hunters do it the old fashioned way these days, especially when they got a Familiar.”

Dean shrugs and scoots around Michael to get to the door. These are not the kinds of questions Dean likes to be asked at two in the morning. Instead of talking to asshats, he could be on his way home.

“Just…how I roll I guess.”

“Sure, or your just afraid to be like them.”

Dean scowls. Manipulative fucker, Michael’s just trying to egg him on. He doesn’t know anything about him.

“Why are you here?”

“I want to see who I’m going to be working with.  It’s been a while since I’ve worked with another actual human being.”

Now that makes Dean’s blood boil. “Familiars are just as human as we are.”

There’s the distinct sound of wings flapping from above, and a moment later, Michael’s bird is swooping down and perching itself on his shoulder. “Not really, Dean. They’re a half-breed. Spawned from our souls and our magic, they are ours for commanding.”

His Familiar’s eyes are closed, and it looks distressed from where Dean is. That in itself is answer enough to say that this one disagrees.

“They have free will. They have emotions, and all that human junk. They have _morals_ , so as far as I’m concerned, they’re human.”

“We are above them, Dean. We can take all of that away from them with just a thought.”

Dean’s fists tighten over the wheel, the temptation to just floor it is overwhelming. Maybe he could turn around and just hit Michael with his car.

Sometimes, Dean really hates The Belt. Most people he works with would agree with Michael, but Dean thought because of Michael’s righteous reputation he’d be different. Load of shit.

“You’re just the same as everyone else at The Belt, thinking you own everything just because you have the knowledge and magic to control it.”

Michael frowns. He’s hit a nerve of some sort. “I’m not like everyone else. Unlike many of the others, this Familiar is also my friend.”

Dean won’t believe it until the bird says so. “You just got done talking shit on how you own him because he’s just some other monster made from human souls and magic, and you expect me to believe he is your friend?”

“Hey, just because I said he wasn’t human doesn’t mean he’s a monster. Things aren’t so black and white, Dean.  Sometimes people are more monsters than the demons you and I hunt.”

There’s something settling in his chest, a mix of resignation and annoyance. He refuses to dwell on Michael’s words, mostly because they’re a fucking waste of time. He’s never going to use magic to command Benny. Hell, he probably doesn’t even remember how to anymore.

“I’m going to go catch some shut eye, need to be prepared for tomorrow.”

Michael sighs. “Alright. Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean nods and heads home.

xxx

“There’s no way you’re driving my car,” Dean growls at Michael who’s sitting grumpily in the backseat.

“Why not?”

“Do you want me to list the reasons? She’s mine.”

“He’s a bit sensitive about the car,” Benny comments quietly from the passenger seat. “Learnt that the hard way, rule number twenty-six.”

“No dogs in the car,” Dean emphasizes sternly.

“What really?”

“Yes really, no birds either.”

Michael laughs, despite the weirdly human expressions of hatred on his Familiar’s face.  

“You could always change to human, you know.”  Dean tells it and the bird just flies out the window.

Michael laughs, “Yeah he prefers to be flying most of the time. He’ll open up eventually, let ‘em be.”

He highly doubts that. He’s starting to doubt he’ll ever see this dude in human form.

The drive to Kansas City is short, but it feels like forever with Benny remaining unusually silent and Michael making distasteful noises at his music. It’s not until Michael’s bird flies ahead of them, that his attention wavers from the road. Dean holds back a laugh when they get on the interstate, and it starts swooping and diving to keep up. It gets to the point where they are practically racing with how he keeps glancing down to see if Dean’s still under him.

“Eyes on the road, Dean,” Benny chastises when Dean’s eyes stay on him for a few seconds too long.

Dean finally lets loose his amusement. “Damn, he’s fast.”

“You should see him in a fight.” There the first words Michael’s spoken since they set out, and Dean has to admit if there’s anything exciting about this particular hunt, it’s to see that Familiar in a fight.

Their motel is a ten minute drive from Lake Tapawingo, so they stop there first and load the gear into their rooms. Michael has surprisingly little for how big of an operation this is supposed to be. Luke didn’t say exactly how big, but he said be prepared for anything. Dean brought enough guns, salt, and holy water to fill three bags, as well as two CD players considering that method proved to be successful the other night.

Benny is sitting on the end of his bed, head bowed over a map of the area. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t continue, and when Dean looks over, he sees Benny’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his jaw taut with tension.

“I thought I should tell ya, I overheard that conversation you had with Michael the other night.”

He sounds guilty, but Dean isn’t angry. It wasn’t exactly a private conversation.

“Okay, man, sorry that you had to hear that. Mike here is a total douche when it comes to Familiars.” 

Benny sighs, “That doesn’t bother me, brother. He’s not as bad as some of the other folks I’ve been partnered up with. You know, some of the guys down there get off on commandin’ their Familiars around, treat us like we’re pets and slaves.”

Benny has never opened up about this stuff before, though Dean has asked. He knows about the collars, the chains, the fighting and all the other corruption that The Belt is filled with. What he really wants to know is why Benny’s opening up about this now.

“Okay…so what is it then?”

Benny shrugs. “I don’t know, just a bad feeling in my gut. My animal instincts, I guess.” He smiles and laughs like it takes immense effort. “I just…thank you, Dean.”

Dean fidgets from where he’s lying on the bed.

“For what?”

“You know, treating me like a human being.”

His skin feels hot under Benny’s gratitude. He wants to shy away, duck his head and say ‘no problem, but something stops him. There’s something Benny’s not telling him here. Whatever bad feeling he has, it must be strong.

“You’re uh… welcome. No problem.” Dean stutters nervously, running his hand over the back of his neck.  “Why do you guys do it?”

“Do what?”

“Stay with the hunters if we treat you so badly?”  Dean asks, frustrated. Is the compulsion to obey really that powerful? Dean can’t imagine that the simple kind of magic he knows would be enough to control anything, let alone command Benny’s every thought and action.

“We would if we could,” Benny replies grimly.

There has to be a choice for them, otherwise, why would Benny be telling him any of this? “What do you mean?”

There’s something frightening about the way Benny’s eyes darken, like he’s travelling back in time when really he’s just remembering. “I don’t know for sure, but there is a legend. Our original bloodline, the Great Nagual as the hunters call it, made a deal with…let’s just say someone they shouldn’t of.” He pauses, sighs. “Once a deal is made, there is no going back. There are some things I have no choice in. So here I am, created to serve. It’s not what I want to do, but it’s what I have to do.”

Deals…the word makes Dean scowl. He’s known for some time that Familiars weren’t helping hunters out of the goodness of their hearts, but this is all because of some demon deal? The idea is nauseating.

When he first was introduced to Familiars, he had thought they were there willingly, there to kill the demons of the world as he had been.  It was a short-lived illusion, although his first Familiar, Samandriel, had kept it alive for a while even though he wasn’t around very long in the first place. On Dean’s third hunt,  he perished from fatal stab wounds that Dean was too much of a novice sorcerer to heal.

He waited another four years before Luke suggested that he take Benny. The thought of what happened to Samandriel could happen to Benny haunts him every now and again.

It’s that mental image that makes Dean wish he was more detached from his Familiar. All the others seem to have an easy time getting over theirs. Dean knows for a fact that Victor gets a new Familiar once a month.

“Uh, be careful tonight on the hunt. If the bad feeling you’re getting is as bad as it sounds like it is…”

Benny smiles. “I’ll watch your back if you watch mine, brother.”

xxx

According to Michael’s Familiar, there were demons spotted around the south docks throughout the afternoon.  He’s been flying for hours. Dean briefly wonders if he ever gets tired up there. He feels tired just sitting in the car with a pair of binoculars and enough salt to fill a small sea.

Suddenly, Michael’s voice filters in from the walkie talkie that’s currently lying on the dashboard, “Dean you copy?” 

“Yeah, I copy. Whaddya got?” 

“Four demons. Approach slowly, I’m going to engage.”

Dean’s state of mind shifts. He’s out the car and running with his gear in seconds. “Wait for me to get there.”

“I’ll be fine. There’s only a few.”

“Michael. Michael!”

What an idiot. He has backup,  but he’s not going to use it? Okay, fine. When Dean saves his ass, he’s going to say I told you so no matter how dick-ish it sounds.  

The road is thankfully clear for him to run. The neighborhood’s pretty rundown, so he cuts through a few overgrown yards to get to Michael. The houses look mostly abandoned, but the fact they line the streets at every point means more demons could be anywhere. He can feel Benny on his heels, but as always, he’s completely silent.

It only takes him less than a minute to get there, and from this distance,  he can see Michael brawling with two demons. Another two lie on the ground. Dean starts running again and pulls out his knife. Benny is flanking him, approaching from the right.

He doesn’t even bother slowing down as he collides into one of the demons and shoves the knife through its chest. There’s a hint of remorse for the poor bastard he was possessing, but he has no time for that. Benny has his teeth in the other demon, and Michael has a blade of his own now embedded in the demons skull.

Michael has spurts of blood along his clothes and running down his cheek. He’s grinning victoriously, like he handled all the demons himself without Dean’s help. “I had it under control, Dean.”

Is he joking?

“You can’t be serious, you were struggling.”

“Not really. I was fine.”

Dean glares, arrogant ass. “Sure you were, if fine counts as dead.”

The ever-present, knowing smile on Michael’s lips is just getting more irritating by the second. He doesn’t get it. They’re in the most dangerous business there is, and Michael thinks he can just take on four demons by himself unarmed?

“You see, Dean, that magic you hate to use so much does serve a purpose.”

As if the world wants Michael to get to say “I told you so,” another crowd of demons chooses that moment to come charging out of the nearest house.

“We should get out of here. The demons could be in any of these houses, if not all of them,” Dean urges, already aiming his gun at the hoard.

Michael’s not paying attention to him, or the demons for that matter. His attention is focused on the sky.

“Castiel!” Michael shouts with authority. In seconds, his bird is swooping down and transforming in mid-air. Dean can barely process what’s going on. All the Familiars he’s seen transform weren’t nearly this fast. He’s going from demon to demon, changing form, stabbing, and then changing again. If it weren’t so impressive, Dean might be sick at the sight of his wings constantly elongating into cloth covered arms and then back. He can barely make out the silver blade that cuts the demons open, all six of them.

It’s over in seconds, leaving only one man left in the center. He’s dressed in a long, tan coat and, upon a closer look, his eyes seem to radiate fire despite their deep blue color.

“Nice work,” Michael says casually as Dean belatedly realizes his jaw has dropped. Nice work? What the hell was that?

“That, Dean, is one of my many secret weapons,”  Michael responds, Dean realizing he had spoken aloud. Michael nods from his Familiar to him in a sort of introductory fashion. “Dean, this is Castiel. Castiel, Dean.”

Castiel’s face is scrunched, as if he is perplexed by being introduced. Dean offers a small wave followed by a weak ‘hey.’ Somewhere behind him Benny is surely laughing his ass off. Dean doesn’t do awestruck or timid hellos.

Castiel’s mouth opens to say something, but he doesn’t get the chance when another small group of demons appear out of one of the other houses.

“Jeez, how many are even in this shithole?” Dean grumbles, raising his weapon again and patting his jacket for holy water.

Benny growls lowly in warning before he changes back to human. “Dean, I think we should get out of here.”

“Why, we can totally take them.” Dean glances at the new group. Only another four, not too many. They aren’t even charging either, they’re just…watching. There’s plenty of escape routes too, if they really did need it.

“He’s right,” Castiel says, his voice a deep rumble. “There’s something off in the air.”

“It’s like the whole place is sulfur, man. The lake, the houses, the streets.”

Dean can smell it too, but he figured it was the fact they have ten demons lying dead around them.

“So? There’s demons. Of course it smells like sulfur.”

“Not this strong. It’s messin’ with my head,” Benny grumbles, and Dean slowly remembers his earlier statement. How he had a bad feeling about this mission and that Dean said he’d watch his back.

“Okay, we’re going.”

“Dean!” Michael shouts with authority. “The mission is not done yet. As you can see, the demons are still here.”

He glances to Castiel who is the picture of apathy as he watches Michael’s tirade. He looks as though he has no preference to what they do, stay or go. Benny on the other hand looks pleased that Dean has come to this decision, and if he’s being honest with himself, he trusts Benny far more than he trusts Michael, or even Luke for that matter, in keeping him out of trouble.

“We’re going, Michael,” Dean says with finality. “Let’s go.”

Castiel moves to follow them, but Michael interrupts. “Castiel, go up, see what other demons are here. I’ll take care of these ones myself.” 

Idiot. He’s going to get himself killed.

“Are you insane Michael?”

“Also, I’ll ensure you get demoted for this Winchester. Leaving halfway through a mission, most unprofessional thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t understand why Lucifer likes you,” Michael adds.

Dean shrugs. “Neither do I.”

Michael makes his move at the demons, leaving Benny and Dean to walk back to the Impala, when the ground suddenly gives one hard tremble, sending them all to the ground.

“What the hell was that?”

Benny quickly transforms back, getting into a defensive position. Dean stands and glances over the rippling water as its little trembles quickly become waves. Dean can smell it now, the overwhelming sulfuric smell, like all the demons of Hell have emptied into the water.

Michael notices this too as he gets back to his feet, and the small huddle of demons breaks apart to charge him.

“Dammit, we have to help him now,” Dean shouts over the rumble of the Earth.

Just like before, they take out the group then another small squad comes out, then another. It’s not surprising when Castiel flies down to engage, or when the water from the lake now reaches to the edge of the road, growing closer. The water is tinged to a sickly orange color.

“We have to run, let’s go,” he shouts over the fighting. It’s no use, they keep coming, and the sickening water gets closer and closer to their feet. Clearly, this isn’t just some demon hunt. This is an omen or a ritual. They packed for a simple killing spree, not this.

“Alright.” Michael concedes, and they break away to run.

Benny and Castiel take the lead with Dean and Michael a few steps behind. The demons are close on their heels, cackling as they chase. From his position, Dean can hear him mumbling something about sacrifices which spurs him on faster.

When he finally sees his baby, it’s met with equal delight and dread. Between them and the car is another wall of demons, smiling menacingly like some cheap horror film.

“Dammit!”

There’s no way around them, they are so screwed.  He glances right, then out to the water which is now wetting the road and the bottoms of their shoes. It reeks enough that he could pass out from the smell.

Benny and Castiel seem to agree that there’s no way but through the line of demons. Castiel swoops down, his human body barely having time to take shape before he’s fighting. Benny leaps onto one, biting through its neck.

Dean raises his gun, fires off a few rounds and starts chanting an exorcism. Michael joins in, and then it’s all out warfare.

He can’t remember ever taking out this many demons in his life. He goes through one, two, three, and then another three come in front of him. They get off a few shots, a few slashes on his arms, his stomach. Something is embedded in his side, but there’s no intense, white pain that he’s come to expect in these situations. A more severe wound then, his need to survive is probably the only thing keeping him conscious.

Somehow, he makes it to the door if the Impala, but he can’t see Benny or Michael. Castiel, on the other hand, is limping toward him.

“Go, Dean. I’ll hold them off.”

“Like hell you will,” Dean says as he reaches to drag Castiel into the car. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, he’s hurt worse than he let on.

“Where are the others?”

“I’m…” Castiel starts, but he’s clearly having a hard time keeping aware. “Not sure, you need to go now, Dean.”

Panicked, he looks into the crowd of demons. There’s no sign of Benny, but the demons are gonna get in if he doesn’t leave now.

In the back, Castiel is barely keeping his eyes open. There’s blood all over Dean’s hands. He’s not sure if it’s his or Castiel’s.

“I’m sorry, man.” He puts the car in drive and floors it.

 

xxx

Bobby Singer is like the grumpy, maybe alcoholic, uncle he never had. And he’s extra grumpy because apparently Dean hasn’t answered his phone all day.

“Idiot. Had a job today and didn’t tell me,” Bobby grumbles as he pours Sam a cup of coffee. “How bout I bring out the pictures from when he was little as revenge.”

Sam laughs, “That’s be great, maybe I’d remember him then.”

“Doubt you would, boy. You guys haven’t seen each other since you were real young. Though Dean once said he checked up on ya.”

“Checked up on me?”

Bobby nods. “Long time ago, Dean must’ve been in his teens. Left for a week without telling me, comes back a week later saying he was checkin’ up on you.”

“How come I haven’t known about him until now?” Sam asks. It’s not fair really. Dean’s known his whole life that he has a brother out there, and Sam’s just finding out now? He knows his adoptive parents haven’t been keeping this information from him, but still it’s hard to not be at least a little bitter.

“Dean, and you for that matter, were not adopted as conventionally as you might think.”

“Really? What was so unconventional?” Jess pipes in as she takes a sip of coffee.

“Well, Dean was a stubborn little brat and refused to be separated from Sammy here unless certain demands were met,” Bobby begins. “I probably shouldn’t be tellin’ you this. Dean would want to give his version.”

“Tell me your version,” Sam says instantly. He can hear his brother’s version another time.

“Well, your biological father, I knew him well, made real sure that Dean knew his job, which was to take care of his baby brother.”

Sam makes a face. Giving a child that much responsibility…

“So when that fire happened, first thing your brother does is go get you. Your dad died trying to save your mom.” Bobby takes a long pull from whatever he’s drinking. It’s not coffee. “The adoption system kept trying to separate you two, lots of takers for you. From what I’m told Dean’s current boss purposed a tradeoff, the promise of a loving home for you and a guarantee of your protection, in exchange Dean gets taken off the map, no papers, no nothing.”

“Why would he want that? How could a four year old even make that decision, Mr. Singer?”

“Please don’t call me that.” He scowls. “Bobby is fine.”

Sam makes a gesture for him to continue. “Right. Well a four year old can’t, but Dean knew what he wanted for a boy his age, that’s for sure. All he wanted was to make sure you were safe.”

Something squeezes inside Sam’s chest. Something mixed with pain and gratefulness. He wouldn’t change his past, he’s has the best life anyone could ask for, but he now it’s like there’s a missing spot there in the midst of his childhood. One Dean could’ve fit perfectly into.

“He shouldn’t have had to give anything for my safety.”

Bobby huffs. “Well, if there’s anything you should know about Dean then it’s that he’s a self-sacrificing idjit” 

Sam smiles, pained. “Yeah, sounds like it.”  

 


	3. Deception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remind me to not have league of legends open while trying to write, terrible idea.  
> Thanks again to greenk, for beta-ing.

Dean has no memory of making it to the motel or of stitching up his wound. He must’ve though because here he is, staring at the swollen skin of his abdomen, his torn flesh haphazardly sewn together.

“Dean?” a weak voice croaks from the corner. “You awake?”

Dean sits up, groaning as his side throbs. “Castiel?”

He squints, eyes dizzily finding Castiel on the other bed. He is stitching up his shoulder, and his chest is bruised up. A look from Castiel’s shoulder to Dean’s wound makes it clear he was the one who stitched him up. He’d say thank you, but his throat feels dry and he’s having a hard time seeing straight and keeping Castiel’s image in view.

“Cas—“ His vision is blurring, Castiel’s image fading in with the bland, green bedspread. The blood sticks out so he tries to focus on that, but it too starts to fade.

“Dean. Dean stay with me, we can’t be here much longer,” Castiel says, his form moving closer. Dean feels warm, clammy hands on his face. The feeling clears his head long enough for him to see the details of Castiel’s face. His eyes are downcast in concern, and Dean’s not sure what to make of the look. He glances to Castiel’s wound, then to his battered chest.

“I…okay.”

A moment later he’s pulled to his feet. It hurts like hell, but Castiel still doesn’t even have his shoulder stitched up, and he’s right, they do need to get out of here. That many demons means a serious problem. They’re gonna need everyone.

Plus, he needs to plan. He’s not sure where Benny is or if he’s even alive. Michael too.

Castiel gets back to sewing his wound shut, and Dean stumbles to gather their gear. He should probably help sew the wound up, but with the way his vision is spinning, he doesn’t think he’d be much help.

“How’d we make it here?” he says offhandedly, needing a distraction.

Castiel glances up to meet his eyes. “You drove us here, passed out the second you put the car in park.”

Dean nods. “Alright. Thanks then, for…you know.” Carrying his unconscious ass into the motel. Stitching him up. Not being a dick.

Castiel nods solemnly. “We need to get moving.”

“What about Benny? We have to look for him, and what about Michael?”

Castiel shakes his head. “We can’t, Dean, we need to move now. This area…I don’t feel anyone. Just demons. If we don’t leave now, I don’t think we’ll make it out.”

His words send a chill down Dean’s spine. The whole town, demons.

But he has to find Benny, he just can’t _leave_ him here.

“Dean. We’ll come back when we are better prepared. Neither of us can fight in this condition.”

He’s right, Dean knows he is. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to choose to run.

They pack their bags; Castiel takes his out to the car first. When Dean comes out to join him, he finds him in his Familiar form, perched on the side mirror.

“Get in the passenger seat, man. We need a plan.”

The bird squints, but complies. It takes a great effort to hold his tongue when Castiel flies through his window and perches on the shoulder of the seat instead of just changing back.

“I can’t speak bird, Cas,” he tells him. The bird just ruffles his feathers in reply. “Fine.”

Dean gets in the car on shaky legs. He feels a little more stable now, his vision clearer. Hopefully, that means he’ll make it back to Bobby’s without running off the road.

What he’ll do when they get there, who knows. He should probably call Luke, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s more than a little pissed at his boss. Luke was the one who’s supposed to know what they’re dealing with. Clearly, he didn’t have enough info before sending them in. That wasn’t a demon nest, it was an _army._

He tells Castiel as much, ranting angrily as he turns out of the motel, even though Cas doesn’t give much reply in his current form. It’s not until they’re on the interstate that the slight shuffle of clothing signifies that he’s back into human form.

“Was turning into a bird really necessary for that conversation, Cas?”

Castiel squints at the shortening of his name. “No. I feel more comfortable in my other form.”

“What’s wrong with being human?” Dean asks politely, trying to sound curious rather than offended.

“Nothing it’s just…” Cas pauses, glancing from his wounded arm to the sky. “I like flying. I feel more comfortable with a set of wings. Although, I don’t think I could fly now, with my shoulder like this.”

“I hate flying,” Dean says, feeling nauseous at the thought. Though his view of flying is in an aircraft that could crash at anytime. Castiel’s version is freedom, wings flapping in the open air. If that sensation were possible for Dean, he might understand it.

“Why?” Castiel sounds almost offended.

Dean grins at Castiel’s peeved expression. “I don’t like it. Seems risky. It’s not like when you’re running and you trip or something, you just get back up. Make a mistake while you’re flying and it’s game over, man.”

Cas seems to sink further into the passenger’s seat. “It’s…not like that, Dean. It’s not like there’s random roots in the sky for you to trip on. It’s the same way you drive your car, you just have to be careful.”

“Well the winds change and can throw you off balance. It’s the same thing, right? Plus, don’t you have problems with other birds or something? There are trees, phone lines. And it’s not like my version of flyin’ is the same. In my experience, it’s always been trapped in a giant metal tube with crying babies and shit.”

“That does sound rather unpleasant,” Castiel agrees with a nod. “Maybe someday you’ll get to experience my version.”

He’s not sure how that would ever be possible. There’s probably some way to fly using magic, but Dean’s not planning on using it if there is. Too many risks and flaws in the spells Dean knows of.

“I think…there’s something I should tell you,” Castiel mumbles almost too quietly. For a second,  Dean’s not sure he said anything at all, but his darkened expression makes his insides twist.

“What is it?”

“Luke…Lucifer.” Dean makes a face at his boss’s other name. “You’re right to be angry with him. I think...I think he might’ve known about the sheer number of demons that would be at the Lake.”

If he wasn’t scared before, then Castiel’s words make him feel worse, times a thousand. If Luke is setting him up to die, then he’s more than screwed. “Then why would he only send me and Michael? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” Castiel looks down, seeming frustrated. “I’ve thought about it for a while, before this even. The last couple jobs Michael has taken on have been…strange. The demons seemed almost…unwilling to fight us. These last few hunts have been far too easy and then this one, I feel the same recognition in those demons as I had with the others. Except this time their orders were to kill instead of be killed.”

He doesn’t want to listen to Cas’ words, but they make sense. The last hunt it was so easy, the demons just took the exorcism, no attempt at escape. Before that, they had gone on a hunt that was a simple slice, barely even a fight.

But Luke likes him, he can tell. Ever since Dean was four, he’s been taking orders from Lucifer. Where to go, what to shoot. Why would he want Dean dead? Why would he deal with the very creatures he’s made his mission to destroy? There’s no gain there, only danger. “I don’t understand why he’d want me or Michael dead. Where’s the gain? What if it’s someone else in the organization? That’s a possibility right? Someone who envies our rank?”

The Familiar shrugs. “It’s a possibility.”

“Plus, why would Lucifer want to kill his own brother or me for that matter? Killing me wouldn’t do much good. I don’t have a whole lot in the first place.”

“I don’t know, Dean. But there’s something going on. Lucifer has been corrupt for a long time and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s lowered himself to assorting with demons.” 

Yeah, corrupt as in running shady clubs and gambling, but demons? Nah, Luke hates demons more than anything. “I disagree.”

“I understand. I only ask that you not tell Lucifer of my thoughts.”

Dean gives him a reassuring pat that ends up being awkward because Castiel flinches. “Uh sorry, yeah no problem, man. Won’t tell a soul.”

“As lawless as The Belt is, there are lots of consequences for speaking out against its ruler,” Castiel remarks quietly.

For a little while, the drive is quiet, and it leaves Dean’s head is too full with Cas’ words. He’s right, the last hunts have been off. Luke has been off to some degree. But Dean can’t bear the idea that the man he’s trusted to keep demon eyes off Sammy all these years has betrayed him, he just can’t. It would make his entire existence so… _pointless_.

Not only that, but he can imagine an older Sam tearing him a new one for trusting someone who’s nickname was Lucifer in the first place.

“Hey Cas?”

“Yes?”

Dean pauses, smiling slightly. “Why do some people call Luke, Lucifer?”

Castiel looks at him quizzically. “That’s his actual name. Luke is the name he gives to all his subordinates.”

“Oh.” Dean stops, eyes hypnotized momentarily by the lines of the road. “Who thought it was a good idea to name their kid Lucifer anyway?”

“His parents. They named their children after the two strongest archangels, Michael and Lucifer.”

Right, how could he forget they were brothers?

Dean gives a small laugh at the thought of the faceless parents signing a birth certificate with the name Lucifer. Talking to a little baby with the name of the devil.  

The amusement is instantly replaced with dread when he thinks of Luke’s face if he has to tell him Michael may very well be dead. Somehow, it still hasn’t hit Dean yet, that Benny and Michael might be gone for good. For some reason, he feels confident that Benny’s okay.

He can’t explain it, maybe it’s like one of Benny’s feelings, but he’s sure his friend is alive.

A little while later, the constant flat land breaks into small houses that lead them into Lawrence. Dean’s more than a little relieved to see the familiar sites, but he’s at an impasse for what to do.

“Bobby’s or Luke’s first?” Dean asks Cas, who looks like his wounds are really starting to get to him.

Dean would really rather not go under his boss’s nose. So many years of unwavering obedience…he doesn’t want to think of disobeying now.

 “Uh…Bobby’s. I think it would be wise if only one of us shows up to meet Lucifer next. Gauge his reaction to our survival.”

Bobby, right. He hasn’t spoken to the old man in a while, he should probably call. Except, when he checks his phone, there is fourteen missed calls and three texts. Something sinks in his gut. Bobby would never call more than twice unless there was something seriously wrong. He phones him immediately.

It only rings once before Bobby answers. It’s pretty early in the morning for him to be up at all. His hands shake slightly as he hears Bobby’s tired voice come through.

“Stupid boy, why haven’t you called me back?”

“Ran into some trouble, what’s up?” Dean replies, preparing himself for bad news. “Something wrong?”

Bobby sighs, and Dean prepares himself for the worst. “You just…you should be here Dean, there’s someone here to see you.”

Dean’s face scrunches in confusion; he doesn’t really have friends other than Bobby.

“Who?” Dean says skeptically.

“Sam’s here, Dean.”

xxx

Castiel isn’t sure what he thinks of Dean Winchester. He’s heard many things from Familiars, humans, and demons alike. Michael seems to think he’s an arrogant and overconfident novice, but he has to disagree. Dean is young, sure, but a novice definitely not. He saw how Dean tore through those demons— it’s the reason why he and Dean were the only ones who made it out.

The subtle undertone of his bond to Michael thrums under his skin. It will soon fade to nothing if he is not rescued soon, but Castiel cannot bring himself to care, if he’s being honest with himself. He’s been Michael’s Familiar for nearly eight years. Castiel has outlived all his other humans before, and he’s learned not to get too attached.

He can feel Dean’s ties to Benny from where he sits. They’re strong, but loose and unacknowledged; Dean probably doesn’t even know he’s connected by ancient magic with Benny. Castiel doesn’t know why Benny wouldn’t say anything about it, but it’s not his place to judge how his fellow Familiars deal with their hunters.

Dean is saying something to whoever Bobby is when his face pales. His eyes widen and fill with what Castiel thinks might be tears. Bad news then.

“Sammy’s there?” The way Dean’s voice cracks grabs Castiel’s attention. They haven’t known each other very long, but it’s easy to tell that this sort of vulnerability isn’t seen on Dean often. “Why…why is Sammy there, Bobby?”

Dean runs a hand down his face, and Castiel turns away to ensure he won’t be embarrassed. His voice shakes through the rest of this conversation, something about seeing Sammy in a few minutes. Whoever he is, it’s clearly someone of importance in Dean’s life.

When Castiel looks back over to see Dean’s expression, it’s drastically different. He’s blank, expression frozen in a state of shock.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks hesitantly.

Dean takes a deep breath, his face slowly thawing out as he does so. “My…My brother is home. I haven’t seen him in…a very long time.”

He nods and turns back to the window. Dean doesn’t want to discuss this, understandably. Nor is it any of his business.

They arrive at Bobby’s a few minutes later. It’s a small home attached to a much larger junkyard, not really what he expected. Dean doesn’t move.  He stares at the house as if there’s a hoard of demons inside rather than his brother.

“Dean?”

“I can’t go in there Cas,” Dean croaks out. “I haven’t seen him since...he doesn’t know what I…”

His eyes close, and Cas watches silently as his head comes to rest against the wheel. The hunter’s hands shake at his sides, and Castiel is momentarily reminded of their injuries. Perhaps Dean would like to keep his occupation a secret from whatever family he has.

“Take my coat, I’ll help you up,” Castiel says, stepping out of the car. Dean gives him a panicked look but remains still.

“You…what?”

Castiel removes his overcoat before coming to Dean’s side and opening the door. “You’d like to keep it a secret from your brother that you are a hunter. It’s easier to hide the blood on your side if you have this on.”

Under normal circumstances, Castiel might’ve let Dean sit here in his shock, but something about him makes Castiel sensitive. Maybe it’s his kind eyes or his respect towards Familiars, but Castiel doesn’t want to see him in this state.

“Can you stand?”

“Probably,” Dean replies, and he seems to finally relax enough to step out of the car. He offers his hand, which Dean takes gratefully to lift him. He winces as he drags his leg from the car onto the driveway. Once he’s standing, Castiel sets his coat on his shoulders, being sure to hide the blood on his side.

“Would you like me to leave?” Castiel asks as they step up to the front door.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah man, you can stick around. Thanks.”

Castiel nods, fighting the urge to run away from whatever this is as he supports Dean through the doorway.

 

 

 


	4. Disgrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop.  
> Thanks again to greenk for editing.

Slowly, Dean comes back to himself as he sits in Bobby’s kitchen, shrugging off Castiel’s support. He manages to give him a small smile in thanks, before tightening his borrowed coat. The blood on his side isn’t too noticeable, maybe if he’s lucky he’ll get the chance to change his clothes and bandages before he meets with his brother, but that seems unlikely since the only extra bedroom that Sam could be in is his old one.

It’s been a week since he’s visited Bobby. He is used to seeing a heap of empty bottles on the counter, but they are absent this morning. There is an abandoned cup of coffee on the counter, almost like a signal telling Dean they have guests. He must admit, he prefers the smell of coffee in the morning to whiskey. He needs to remember to visit more often if just to make sure Bobby hasn’t drunk himself into a coma.

Castiel is still standing, all stiff and impassive. His long sleeves cover whatever damage to his shoulder, but his eyes are pained, and he blinks slowly like at any moment he might fall over. Annoyed, Dean tugs on his sleeve for him to sit. “Chill out, Cas. Your shoulder’s still busted up, have a seat.”

He seems surprised that Dean spoke, but complies.

Seeing Castiel in Benny’s normal seat unsettles him. There’s so much to deal with at once, Dean thinks. Whatever omen is over at the lake, the strange army of demons, Dean’s sudden doubt in his boss’s intentions, Benny, Michael, and now his younger brother has come to visit. If it were under any other circumstances, Dean would feel a bit more excited and a lot less dread.

It’s been a long time since Dean’s checked up on Sam. It hurt worse every time he saw his little brother—unable to approach him, to talk to him—so he stopped. Last time, Sam was just starting law school, and he had watched from a distance as his brother said goodbye to his adoptive parents. He’d grown impossibly tall over the years, and Dean wonders if he’ll be any taller this time.

His entire body feels tight just thinking about it. How’d Sam find him in the first place? Does he remember Dean in any sense? He was just a year old when he was adopted; it’s very unlikely he’s had any idea of Dean’s existence over the years. Dean remembers little Sammy as clear today as he did when he was four.

The house groans at the sound of someone waking up, probably Bobby at the sound of their arrival. The Impala isn’t exactly quiet. The steps creak a few moments later, and Dean prepares himself in case it is Sam.

Thankfully, it’s just Bobby, wearing his usual cap and plain clothing.  He eyes Castiel with a questioning look before taking in Dean’s appearance.

“What happened, boy? Why weren’t you answering my calls?” Bobby glances under the table, searching. “Where’s Benny?”

“I…” Dean starts, trying not to think of where Benny might be, if he’s even alive. “Something happened, I’ll have to find him.”

“We will,” Cas says suddenly with conviction. Dean didn’t think Castiel cared, but from the set in his jaw and the sudden lack of apathy in his expression, maybe he does.

Bobby glares at Cas like he finds his presence offensive. “Who’s this yahoo?”

Something protective flares up in Dean, their brief encounter with death had given them a kinship of sorts. He shouldn’t be on the cusp of anger with Bobby for acting to strangers like he always does.

“He’s a friend, Bobby. Wouldn’t have made it out of there without him,” Dean tells him calmly, holding back his irritation with what little energy he has left. Castiel watches Bobby with an air of indifference. It’s his standard appearance it seems, his face just falls into that impassive set and blank stare.

Bobby huffs, but apparently notices Dean’s exhaustion so he doesn’t push further. “What’d Luke put ya’ on this time?”

“Demon infestation, turned out to be a lot bigger than it was supposed to.” Understatement. Hell on Earth is a better description, except instead of a lake of fire they got a lake of sulfur.

Bobby gives Dean a firm pat on the back before heading to the cupboard where he pulls out a small flask of what Dean guesses is whiskey. It looks older than some of his other ones, the silver of its sides dulled and stained from overuse.

He offers it to Dean, and he declines. “Back when I was working in the field…” Bobby starts, glancing briefly to Castiel in hesitation. “It’s always the same Dean, I was afraid with that new rank of yours,  they’d give you more than you can chew.”

Dean shook his head. “No one could chew off this many demons, Bobby. We’d need….the whole company at the very least.” 

“The whole company?” Bobby says incredulously. “How many demons we talkin?”

“I don’t know Bobby, they were everywhere. You know the lake? Reeks of sulfur, something’s up there Bobby. Some sort of omen.”

The smell is still there, like it’s stuck in his nose and under his nails. Like the demon blood he spilled is still clinging to his skin. He wonders if Cas or Bobby can smell it on him, or if Sam will recognize the stench of death and sulfur emanating from him.

Bobby sighs heavily and takes a long swig from his flask, the permanent lines of stress on his face deepening.  He knows more than Dean will ever know about the monsters of the world. Dealt with omen after omen, faced the regime change when Luke became the leader, and now is a liaison for The Belt, helping hunters here and there find info on whatever monster is on their hit list. He did that so he could live life with a little more ease and now Dean might be bringing him another big battle. He’s not sure what’s on Bobby’s mind. If there’s a big fight comin’ Bobby will be right there with him. No doubt. But Dean would almost prefer to push him away from this, as far away as he can.

He’s lost his parents, friends, he might be losing Benny, and the idea of losing Bobby is just…too much.

“Look, Bobby-” he doesn’t get to finish his statement when the house creaks, signaling another occupant walking the floor.

“Sam’s up,” Bobby tells him. “He’s got his girlfriend with him too.”

Nervously, Dean nods.

“Shouldn’t you lose the coat?”

Dean shakes his head. Gesturing to his side. “Not sure I can come up with a believable explanation.”  

“Don’t want him knowin,” Bobby says plainly, and he understands. Dean knows he does, growing up here, there’s been a few times where Bobby would get out old pictures of his wife, and something about telling the truth sometimes comes with a price.

He remembers, after one of his first lessons on monsters, something about Strigas that day. He had come home to find Bobby on the floor, searching through a cardboard box of little trinkets pictures. There was jewelry, little figurines, things that definitely weren’t Bobby’s.

His hair had yet to recede then, and his usual cap was absent. He wore a suit, had flowers at his side. Dean was young, but he recognized a man who had just come back from visiting the cemetery.  It was just a larger version of himself from when he visited his parent’s grave. It was Dean’s first outside look of grief, rather than the seemingly constant remorse in his gut that had only ebbed with time.

“Mr. Singer?” Dean had asked him. When there was no response, Dean had left the room thinking he wanted to be alone.

“Come over here, boy.”

It had taken Dean a minute, he was still wary around Bobby at that time. But he went to him anyway and knelt beside him in front of his wife’s things. He didn’t want to look at them, but the images of Bobby smiling attracted his attention, he didn’t look scary in those pictures, he looked like a man who was happy.

“Don’t tell ‘em,” Bobby had said gravely. “It’s safer that way.”

“Don’ tell who, Mr. Singer?”

“Just remember, boy. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Dean had nodded, he was good at remembering. That was all he did since the fire. Try to keep the memory of his mother’s face clear, his father’s, Sammy’s.

“Yes sir.”

Dean remembers clearly, he understands now. He’s seen coworkers lose friends, family. They get curious, they become aware, vulnerable, and of course they die.

Course’ it’s always helped Dean that he didn’t have a lot of outside friends in the first place, just makes everything easier.

 Bobby walks up a step, pauses. “I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

“Maybe you should leave the whiskey here, Bobby.” Dean gestures to the flask in his hand and Bobby chuckles.

“Right.” He takes another sip before setting it back in the cupboard and heading up the stairs.

Dean watches him go; hoping Bobby has a long talk with Sam before coming down. There’s no preparing for this, no matter what he does. Sam’s been the center of his life without ever being in it. He’s been Dean’s only weakness ever since he was born and somehow, he’s now going to become a person with thoughts, feelings, and not just the brother that Dean swore he’d always protect.

That little baby that mom would hold, setting his weight on her hips as she made them breakfast, he’s gone. Dean’s only seen glimpses of the real him. The tall, smiling, _innocent_ , boy that Dean saw last is a man now. But Sam’s surely still innocent in every way that matters. Now, his job is to make sure Sammy isn’t tainted by the literal demons of the world from meeting him.

Dad’s words ring in his head, he’s remembered them all this time. Mumbled them in his sleep, kept them on repeat in his head since he was four. _Take care of your brother._

“You look ready for a fight rather than your brother,” Castiel states plainly, staring at Dean’s hands as they clench and twist. Dean had nearly forgotten he was there, too encompassed in his thoughts of Sam.

“Well, haven’t actually met him yet,” Dean tells him. “I’m not sure what to do.  He means…a lot to me. How could someone I don’t even know mean so much?”

He should have forgotten Dad’s words by now, given up the hunt. To live by those words, it’s crazy. It’d be easier to just give them up, but Dean’s purpose has always been the same. Fight evil, protect Sam. That’s what his parents would’ve wanted, right? To anyone else, though, living by words heard when you were four is insane.

But Castiel isn’t looking at him like he’s crazy. He’s looking on with understanding. “How is it that God means so much to so many?”

“What?” Dean’s side throbs, Cas’ words mixing in with the pain.

“No one has met God, yet for some, he is everything. Their reason to live, to die.”

“That’s different. Some…stranger shouldn’t be the reason I live.” How he ended up revealing this much to Cas without being asked, Dean’s not sure. Something about the way Cas’ eyes and voice mix make it all too tempting to spill. Or maybe it’s just his emotions running too high. This…unplanned existential crisis, he needs to get it all out before speaking to Sam. This is years of worrying, of over-thinking, of wishing, about to come to some resolution.

“Is it all that different?” A light smile plays on Castiel’s lips. He’s enjoying this, whatever this is. Castiel crosses his legs, adjusting his shoulder to a more comfortable position. “You live for whatever or whomever you want to live for, Dean. Though I’m sure you could live a little more for yourself first.”

The house creaks, someone’s stepping on the top of the stairs. “What do you live for, Cas?”

“Me?” Castiel’s eyes glance briefly to the stairs.

Another creak. “I don’t see any other Cas here.”

He lets out a small laugh a deep, but uplifting sound. “It didn’t take you long at all to settle on that nickname I see.” He pauses, glances to the stairs again. Waiting for Dean to react, but he’s too busy trying to distract himself. “I live for…”

The floorboards groan again. Whoever’s coming down the stairs is slower than Bobby. He can hear a low voice, he doesn’t recognize it.

“…nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes.” Castiel’s eyes have tilted downward, sad.

“So what you live for nothing? What keeps you going?”

“I’m not sure…maybe it’s the hope that one day there will be something to live for.”

The last step creaks, and Cas’ lips press into a thin line. There’s a step, another two, before Dean finally looks at the man standing in Bobby’s kitchen.

Somehow, Sam is exactly the same and completely different all at once. He’s taller, no longer a boy, but a man. Dean still would have recognized him a mile away. Even though he didn’t get the chance to be a Winchester, he looks exactly like one.

Dean stands, trying his hardest to keep it natural and ignore the pain in his side.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean’s voice cracks, and his shoulders curl forward. “It’s…uhh, been a long time.”

Sam’s smiling awkwardly, which is a good thing, he guesses. Better than Sam not caring, or being angry with him. “Hi, Dean.”

They share an awkward silence, and Dean tries to think of what to say next. Okay, so they’ve said “hello,” what is the usual progression of conversation after that point? It’s not like they can make small talk. Their silence is heavy, weighted with questions and emotions that neither can clearly interpret.

“So, uh, Bobby says you might have checked up on me a couple of times.” It’s a question even though it isn’t. Sam wants to know when, how, how often.

“Yeah I did.”

Sam frowns. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He’s upset, understandably. Dean would be too, he thinks. “I didn’t want to screw with your life, Sam. You’ve always had a lot goin’ for ya.”

He did, still does. After law school and everything, Sam’s goin’ places. He’s gonna be a big shot lawyer and have a ton of kids or something while Dean will always be here, killing monsters until they end up killing him. Just the way things are.

“How would that screw with my life? I don’t know you, but I think knowing I had a brother would be a good thing.”

Dean shrugs. The words hurt, he wanted so badly to tell Sam every time he saw him, but it wasn’t right. It’s not right, telling him anything is a risk. Being here, it’s a risk.

“I’m not a good person to have in your life, Sam,” Dean mumbles, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. “It’s…I wanted to tell you for a long time. But I’m not the safest person to be around.”

He’s looking down, away from Sam’s eyes, but he can feel his hard stare on the top of his head. A part of him hopes Benny will appear, lie down on the floor how he sometimes does. But Benny isn’t here, and Dean’s only just noticed that the only Familiar in the house has left the room, probably off somewhere with Bobby to give him and Sam some space.

“Then tell me why it’s not safe. Considering the fact I’m standing right here, talking to you, then I’m pretty sure I’m already at risk.”

“I can’t.”

Sam huffs a hard breath, frustrated. “Why?”

“Dangerous.”

“Well then tell me everything that isn’t,” Sam pushes, and he’s a step closer now, in Dean’s space. It’s hard for him to keep his cool, conflicting emotions telling him to bring Sam in, dump all his secrets while his other half is saying keep him safe, push him away, make him hate you.

Instead Dean tells him, everything he can, and nothing at all.

He starts from the beginning.

They’re kids. It’s nighttime, Mom is putting little Sammy to bed. She sets him in his crib and Dean comes in, he says goodnight, just as a big brother should. Sam smiles, he doesn’t smile as often as a baby should, so Dean is proud whenever he brings one out.

He says goodnight to his parents. The shadows are darker that night, he’s scared. He goes to Mom’s room, except she’s not there. Dad isn’t there either.

The hallway looks brighter than it should, and something smells rotten.  He follows the smell until Dad comes running down the hallway a moment later, carrying his brother. Dean distantly notices the fire licking at the door to Sam’s room, then a shadow running its hands through the flames like they are strands of hair.

Dean tries to warn his father, but before he can, the shadow is gone.

“Look after your brother,” Dad says, just like he always does. Except it’s different, more urgent. Dean does as he’s told.

He runs outside, because they can’t stay there. Dad’s gotta put the fire out. He might need help though, so Dean walks over to the neighbors, carrying Sammy with him.

He reaches for the doorbell and their neighbors—an older couple who always make sure to give Dean extra candy on Halloween—answer the door a moment later.

Dean points to his house, tells them there’s a fire and that his Dad might need help.

They look scared when he tells them this, which makes Dean scared. For a moment, he tries to decide if he should ask them to watch Sammy so he can help put out the fire, but they insist that the fire department will be there any second. It comforts him, and he holds onto Sammy tighter as they usher him into their house.

The wife gestures for them to sit on the couch. The husband, he thinks his last name began with a G, offers to take Sam. Dean doesn’t let him. Instead, he just sits, clutching Sammy close. Dad or Mom will be over to come pick them up shortly, no doubt. They just have to put out the fire first.

When he hears the sound of the fire trucks coming, he smiles. Dean wants to be a fireman when he grows up, he thinks.

Joined by their neighbors, they head outside, and Dean frowns. His home is engulfed in flames. He can feel the immense heat from where he’s standing on the front lawn. Mom and Dad must’ve gotten out in time.

He searches, he doesn’t find them.

One of the firemen tells him, hours later in the back of an ambulance. They recovered the bodies, his parents died of smoke inhalation in Sam’s nursery.

Dean gets up, Sam in his arms, and wordlessly sits under the tree in their front lawn. It’s the only thing the fire hasn’t touched, so he sits there. He thought the leaves had been a greenish orange the day before, but today they are a deep red. Like blood.

Confused tears fall. He’s young, barely understands the concept of death. All he knows is that he won’t be seeing Mom and Dad again.

He cries, and so does Sam.

In the coming months, adults decide what to do with them. Dean doesn’t get a say, he’s too young of course. There are multiple efforts to separate the two boys so they’ll be adopted, multiple attempts to take Sam, his only family, away from him. But those people can’t keep Sam safe, only Dean can do that.

No one wants Dean, he’s too damaged. People read the notes from the doctors, see things like PTSD and defiant on a four-year-old, and they run.

Dean is five when he meets his future boss. Luke walks into his foster home like he owns the place. It’s the way he always walks, but Dean had found it strange at the time.

He ignores Jody, his foster mom, and strides right over to Dean.

They strike a deal.

“I have a proposal for you, Mr. Winchester,” Luke says to him. At the time, using his last name was a smart move. Dean has his instant attention. “What would you say if I promised to give little Sammy the perfect home?”

“You can’t do that,” Dean replies. “I’m his big brother, he has to stay with me.”

Luke smiles in the way all adults smile at innocent children. “Yes, but there are some things you can’t fight, aren’t there? Sometimes you need adults to help you.”

Dean doesn’t answer, he just shakes his head.

“That night your parents died, did you see anyone in the house who wasn’t supposed to be there?”  Luke asks, and Dean sees it in his head. The shadowy man whose hands trailed along the flames.

He nods.

“Well, I can help you. See, my job is to keep things like that far away from people like Sam. I need your help to do that, Dean. Let me give Sam a good home, and in exchange, you get to help keep all evil away from him.”

It takes awhile. Months actually, but they seal the deal, and Sam’s later adopted by the Milligans.

Dean remembers saying goodbye; it’s burned into his head just like the night his parents died.

“See ya, Sammy. I’m going to go keep you safe, okay?”  Dean had told him proudly. “These people goin take care of you till I get back.”

Dean never meant the words as a goodbye. But that’s what they were. Once he realized he wouldn’t be seeing Sam again, he did whatever he could to remember every detail of his childhood. Sammy’s face, his parents, everything.

Bobby picked him up, took him home.

The Belt started training him at the age of eight.

Dean tells Sam what he can. He glosses over anything having to do with hunting, to Luke. Says that someone made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and that’s what finally separated them. If his boss knew that Sam was here now…Dean’s not sure what would happen.

Sam listens, his eyes getting glassier as the story reaches its end.

“But why didn’t I know about you until now?” he asks, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. Sam’s desperation to know makes him nervous; he just prays he doesn’t go snooping.

“Like I said, it’s dangerous to tell you everything.”

Sam laughs without humor. “What are you in the mafia or something?”

Dean finds himself smiling, even though they’re both sitting here with over twenty years of missing history between them. “I wish, Sammy, maybe then I’d actually make some good money.”

“Is it illegal? Whatever it is you’re doing?” Right, Sammy’s a lawyer. Went to Stanford, Dean should’ve known better than to even hint at anything.

“Not exactly.”

The frustration that Sam exudes is understandable, Dean can relate, but he needs him to just…stop.

“Please, Sam, don’t push. It’s for your own safety, and mine for that matter,” Dean tells him. “How about you tell me what you’ve been up to?” 

There’s a loud sigh from his brother, and Dean’s relieved that it’s a sigh of defeat.

Dean discovers that Luke lived up to his end of the deal. Sam’s had the best life anyone could ask for from the sounds of it. Loving parents, enjoyable school life, meeting his girlfriend Jess at Stanford. Sounds like Sam’s a bit of a nerd, likes books and learning and all that junk. Straight A student through and through, and Dean can’t deny he’s more than a little proud.

Sam’s life isn’t perfect, of course. No one’s is. In Sam’s short summary of his life he learns that Sam would’ve had a brother named Adam, but he died when he was just a baby. He learns that his first girlfriend in high school, Sarah, died when Sam was only sixteen. Sam tells him that he ran away shortly after for a few days and befriended a dog named Bones which he later brought home.

“So I find out some more information about the house burning down and a few little documents that mentioned your name, so Jess talked to her genius computer friend who had Bobby’s number listed, and now here we are,” Sam surmises, smiling crookedly.

Dean still can’t really believe it. It’s been such a long time, and everything Dean’s imagined Sam to be has been shoved aside, replaced with this living, breathing version of him. He’s everything Dean expected him to be while also nothing like the Sam in his head. He’s better, and for now, Dean can’t help but think he made the right call all those years ago.

Dean smiles. “Here you are.”

Xxx

Castiel is not the most intelligent being when it comes to social interaction, but he knows enough that this moment between Dean and his brother is a private one. He leaves the room quietly, neither seems to notice. He will give Dean this brief reprieve from their current predicament. After he talks to his brother, they’re going to be very busy people. The blood and dirt under his fingernails seem to thrum with demonic energy, a coming storm. This certainly won’t be the first war Castiel’s ever seen, but he hopes it’s his last. The constant bloodshed and hatred can be so disheartening to see when alongside humanity’s goodness and compassion.

Dean Winchester exudes this kind of compassion, Castiel realizes. The loyalty to the brother he never really got to know, his concern for his lost Familiar. Dean has buried these feelings so he can function, but Castiel can feel the strength of his them like they are another entity in the room. A swirl of darkness is Dean’s dread, worry, and shame. The lighter shades of his being tell Castiel that he is hopeful too. Hopeful that he will get the chance to be Sam’s brother, hopeful that Benny is still alive. Subconsciously, Dean feels his connection to Benny and is certain that he is still alive, that much Castiel can tell with just a glance. Without that small connection, Dean would be in a far worse state.

Perhaps the connection is always why Castiel has never grown attached to his bonded hunters. The partial connections don’t tell Castiel all of his hunter’s thoughts, but he can gather enough from it that Michael feels no true attachment to him. The feeling is mutual.

He feels Michael’s connection now, a slack strand of yarn connecting them. It tells Castiel he is still alive, but he feels no comfort in it. It’s stronger today, much to his dismay. The demons must be keeping Michael and Benny hostage, or preparing them for sacrifice. Given that Michael is Lucifer’s brother, he doubts the demons would dispose of them so easily. He must collect Dean soon, they need a plan of action.

Might as well get one thing out of the way while he waits, he’ll go see Lucifer now. He’ll be able to tell easily enough if he is out to get them or if it was a true accident. Lucifer is a good liar, but Castiel has hundreds of years of experience under his belt. He’ll figure it out.

The Belt looks like just any other building, plain bricks, office windows. Hiding in plain sight.

Castiel flies up to Lucifer’s window on the top floor. It gives him an easy escape this way, if Lucifer shows any signs of hostility.

He pecks at the window, and it’s opened a moment later.

“Oh, Michael’s Familiar right? This is…unusual.”

Castiel leans in the window and lets his form take on that of a human at a natural pace.

“Hello, Luke,” Castiel says.

“Come sit, what can I help you with?” Lucifer is smiling, as he always does.

Castiel pauses, gauging his disposition. “Your brother’s been captured by demons.”

Lucifer’s smile falls, his eyes go hard and cold. “What happened?”

“It seems that there is a demon army living on the Lake. It was…strange. Not only were the people possessed by demons, but it appeared the water had been as well,” Castiel explains, searching his face for signs that this is not new information.

There’s no noticeable emotion. Lucifer is hard to read. He could be cold as a statue from hearing news of his brother, or it could be because he’s trying not to give anything away.

“That sounds very serious, Castiel.”

Castiel’s eyes snap to him. He’s never used his name.

“I…believe it is very serious, sir.”

Lucifer nods. “I will speak with the other hunters and send as many as I can afford to Lake Tapawingo.”

Castiel nods, stepping towards the window.  This visit has made nothing of his theories. Still, he is suspicious. He knows better than to go against his instincts.

“Oh, Castiel, do you know if Dean Winchester is alright?”

Castiel pauses, contemplating his next move.

“He’s…safe,” he says after a moment, hoping his words didn’t just put Dean in danger.

“Well, good. I’m not surprised, Dean’s always been a fighter, such as yourself.” Lucifer smiles, steps close, slaps a hand on Castiel’s back.

Something stings in his nose. A familiar smell, one that was just overwhelming his senses only hours earlier.

Sulfur.

Castiel nods, careful in where he trains his eyes. He doesn’t want to arouse suspicion, but he can smell it, just below Lucifer’s collar.

“I must go now. I believe Mr. Winchester is waiting for me.”

Lucifer is smiling again, like he’s won. “Please tell Dean to come around soon, I must speak with him about my brother.’

“I’ll tell him.”

Castiel allows his body to change and shrink into his alternate form, making sure to scan Lucifer for anything demonic as he does so. The transformation hides his eyes long enough for him to spot something just below the pocket on Lucifer’s suit. A small scratch of orange powder.

Castiel flies out the window a moment later. His suspicions confirmed, he must tell Dean as quickly as possible. Knowing his power, his influence, Castiel is certain they are both in grave danger.

 

 

 

 


	5. He Asked For Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving.  
> Thanks again to greenk she is A+, 10/10 beta.

Sam and Dean end up at a bar a few blocks away. Sam wants to get to know his brother a little better, but overall he seems like a decent guy. Whatever the secret is he’s keeping, it’s serious. Sam can see it; there’s darkness to this man, not the evil kind but…haunted. If the way his eyes darken or his voice quakes didn’t make it obvious, it would be the fact he’s clearly hiding some injury. Sam hasn’t poked at it yet, but he will once Dean relaxes a little.

They end up exchanging lighter points of their life over a few beers. Sam tells him how he and Jess got lost on that road trip, and Dean tells him about how his Impala once broke down in the middle of the desert.

“It was Dad’s, by the way,” Dean says after. “That car’s all that’s left of them, really. Bobby helped me find it after I turned sixteen. Turns out one of Dad’s old buddies was savin’ it for me.”

The tips of Sam’s fingers play around the neck of his beer. Dean doesn’t continue with his story, but the fondness in his smile tells Sam that he loves that car more than he’s letting on.  

In that moment, Sam can see Dean as his brother so easily. In his easy smile as he talks about his car, or maybe it’s the fact he’s mentioning the family Sam never got to know. Either way, Sam’s surprised by how familiar Dean seems already. He thought it would be awkward, and it has been a little bit, but it’s a far cry from worst case scenario which consisted of awkward hellos and Sam leaving by noon.

Instead, Sam is talking to his biological brother, who’s fiercely loyal to him despite this being their first true conversation. It makes Sam a little uncomfortable knowing how much Dean gave up for a much younger him. He didn’t say what his “deal” was outright, but Sam’s not stupid. He can read between the lines, the protectiveness in his brother’s gaze as he told him the story didn’t go unnoticed. Part of being a good lawyer is having the skill to read people, knowing your opponent, your client. Dean may not be either, but he knows that whatever deal Dean made was for Sam.

A part of him wants to apologize for it, whatever it is. Dean’s into something bad, if only Sam could pin down what it is. Dean doesn’t really have the traits of a gang member or a drug dealer, or any of the other criminal activities floating around in his head. There’s no greed there either, so _what is it?_

“What’s with the coat?” Sam says to fill the silence, glancing at the atrocious beige curtain over Dean’s shoulders.

“Hm?” Dean looks confused, before glancing at himself and chuckling. “Oh this? Yeah it’s a friend’s, I’m borrowing it. I spilled ketchup all down the side of my shirt. Should’ve just changed at Bobby’s.”

“Oh, did it belong to that guy you were with?” Sam asks. He remembers seeing the dark, brooding man across from Dean. He seemed strange, or maybe just tired. Disheveled. Probably got hurt with Dean on whatever mission they were on. Maybe taking Dean out for a drink wasn’t his best idea, he’s probably exhausted.

“Yeah, it’s his.” Dean smiles, straightens his jackets, and slaps a few bills on the table. “Ready to head back?”

Sam shrugs. He’d rather stay here a bit longer, hash out a bit more with Dean, but Jess is alone at Bobby’s, and Sam doesn’t feel comfortable leaving her there for long.

“Yeah, sure.”

Dean drives again, wincing quietly the whole way. Whatever’s paining him is getting worse, and he ends up subtlety limping into Bobby’s. Sam nearly offers to help as Dean’s eyes visibly roll in his head when he bends to sit down at Bobby’s kitchen table.

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Dean grits out, jaw tight.

 “You don’t look fine,” Sam says.

Dean’s eyes fall to the floor and stay there. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t reply, just tightens the ugly coat around himself.

“Dean.” Sam stares at the top of Dean’s head, currently bowed in pain. “C’mon, man, let me help.”

Dean responds with a small shake of his head. Sam’s frustration heightens, his hands twitching with the urge to claw at his skull.

“God, what’s so secretive about pain? Just tell me what’s wrong. You don’t have to confess your life over it.”

There’s a pained sigh, and a moment later, Dean’s friend storms in. 

“Dean. We gotta go.”

xxx

 

With some effort, Dean manages to lift his head to look at Cas. His vision is blurring again with the pain. Having a few beers helped, but it feels like it wasn’t bandaged well enough. He shouldn’t have agreed to go out with Sam, it was reckless and stupid. There’s no time for him to rest his head and get to know his brother. There’s an issue at hand that needs to be dealt with now.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asks, worrying for a moment that Castiel will spill the beans with Sam in the room, but instead he answers by gesturing to the Impala.

“We need to go now, Dean. I’m sorry, I know you’re brother is very important to y—“

“Say no more, Cas,” Dean interrupts. “We got work to do, I get it.”

Sam doesn’t look happy.

“What kind of work?” Sam questions. God, Dean wishes he could tell him. Sam wants to know so badly, the question was between them the entire time, tainting the air like a foul smell. He just needs to stop before Dean’s bad luck catches up with him.

“The dangerous kind. Don’t go snooping. For me, I’m just trying to keep you safe. This is life or death, and the second you start poking and prodding at them, you and anyone around you will be in danger.”

And there it is, Sam’s afraid. Afraid of him. He’ll run now, and the brief friendship they had will become a distant memory.

It hurts, knowing he can’t ever have a true bond with his brother. He wants it, and more than anything, he wants to get to know the person who’s at the core of everything he does. With the short amount of time he’s gotten to know Sam, he can confidently say it was worth it. The life he gave up was worth keeping Sammy safe. And if he ever finds the thing that started that fire and killed his parents, maybe he can have it again. Once every demon has fled back to Hell, just maybe he can have the life he used to fantasize about.

Sam is silent, considering Dean’s words.

“You should get out of Kansas, go home or something, man. It’s safer there.”

Castiel tugs on Dean’s sleeve, but he’s still waiting for his brother to say something. He’s just watching Dean with an impassive expression.

“You’ll be okay?” he says finally, and that’s completely not what Dean expected him to say. He expected that Sam might just storm off, or maybe a “fuck you.”  Not… _concern._

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Dean doesn’t expect the hug either, but Sam’s embracing him, and he’s relieved. And in pain, his side throbs with the pressure, but he ignores it and returns the hug. They won’t see each other again for a long time, if ever. At least he got to know him for a little while.

“Here, let’s uh…take my phone number in case…yeah,” Dean tells him hurriedly and gestures for them to exchange phones. “Call me if you’re ever in any kind of trouble.”

Sam smiles sadly. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean gives Sam one last pat on the back before he lets Castiel tug him back to the Impala. “See ya, Sammy.”

xxx

Dean is clearly in no state to drive. He’s sweating, and Castiel can practically smell the blood that’s probably seeping from his stitches. He should have told Dean to take it easy. He had only assumed that talking would consist of minimal movement, but apparently not. Apparently, Dean had to go driving around and loosening his stitches.

“Dean, pull over.”

“I haven’t even made it to the end of the street yet,” Dean replies jokingly. How Dean could be joking right now is a mystery.

“Dean, you’re hurt. You probably have an infection too, let me drive us to…”

He’s not actually sure where to go, where Lucifer wouldn’t find them at least. He’s still not one-hundred percent sure if he’s guilty. Of course, having a scratch of sulfur on his coat doesn’t make him guilty, but with everything that’s been going on lately, and the fact the stuff on Lucifer’s suit was the same as the thick orange crust on the lake, then Castiel would bet money that there’s something there. Lucifer could be leading these demons for all he knows, so he can’t take the risk.

“To where, Cas?”

“We need to hide.”

“Why? Do you think the hoards of demons followed us?”

“Lucifer, he’s definitely up to something.”

There’s a weighted pause. “You think he’s after us?”

“Maybe. I told him you were okay, by the way. He wishes to speak to you.”

“Then how about we go meet him?”

Castiel shakes his head firmly. There’s a good chance that would leave both of them dead. “Definitely not.”

“What makes you think he’s up to something anyway?”

“Sulfur, there was sulfur on him.” The rotten smell is still present, and he grimaces. No matter how much he has to deal with the smell, it never gets less disgusting.

“He does run a demon hunting organization, Cas, sulfur is nothing new.”

“There was a crusty orange stain on his suit, the same thick sulfur that was at the lake. He seemed like he was planning something malicious, Dean.”

“He always seems like that.”

Castiel can’t argue with him there.

“Fine, you want to go get killed, let’s go.”

“I just want to be sure.”

“I feel pretty sure.”

Dean winces, his hands moving to hold his ribs.

“Well, you can’t drive anywhere in this condition, let me.”

“No way,” Dean says adamantly, loosening his hunched posture to glare at Castiel.

“Fine, then do you know any healing spells?”

“Not really.”

Castiel sighs heavily. How Dean gets by in The Belt as a sorcerer, he’ll never know. Maybe the simple fact he has Benny is enough for everyone. Anyone with a Familiar has to have some sort of magic skill within them, even if for Dean,  it’s been left untouched.

“Okay, this will only hurt for a moment.”

“What are you-“

He starts chanting, looking at Dean pointedly to join him. Clearly, he’s not getting the message, and Castiel speaks louder, enunciating more clearly. Soon, Dean’s mouth starts moving, the ancient Enochian magic making its way into Dean’s mind. Castiel cannot perform such magic alone, still tied to Michael, but Dean can. All he has to do is hear the words and feel them, and then it’ll eventually click, as with all free, magical beings.  This will tire him a little, given how little he uses magic, but at least his wound won’t wear him down for a few hours.

He can see when the spell starts to work, Dean’s face relaxes, and he sits up straighter, a determined set in his eyes as he puts the Impala back into drive.

“Thanks, Cas, how’d you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah you did. I’ve never heard that spell in my life, and suddenly, I’m saying the words like I’m reading them from a pamphlet. What’s up with that?”

Castiel smiles, glad he can teach Dean this lesson if nothing else. So many witches and sorcerers are never taught the basics these days. “Ancient Enochian magic has a way of flowing through the caster, it’s a kind of instinctual magic that every magical being inherently knows. All you have to do is hear the rhythm, and you’ll remember the rest.”

“Wow, nobody ever taught me that. All I learned was old fashioned exorcisms and basic telekinetic spells, really,” Dean explains, a smirk making its way onto his face, clearly lost in some sort of memory. “Bobby wasn’t a fan of all the fancy magic everyone uses, said it was dangerous. He didn’t mind mage lights or small enchantments, but anything past a fireball…I liked it that way, all this big magic seems too out of control.”

In this line of thought, Castiel is completely agreeable. The magical spells that Lucifer has promoted have a way of being over-the-top with little predictability. They are not that much more efficient than simple pushes or exorcisms, but they always look better, more destructive, frightening. What no one seems to realize is that they drain the caster. Castiel has seen it, whenever Michael announces he will try one of Lucifer’s new spells, it does the job, but leaves Michael tired.

“Perhaps Lucifer is training with these spells because he wants his hunters weaker.”

The look Dean gives him is skeptical, but he doesn’t change course. The Belt is coming into view, the same bland offices Castiel had been through earlier. He doesn’t want to go in, especially on foot, and have to see all the hunters giving him hungry looks. Word has no doubt already got around that Castiel, the famous undying Familiar, will be up for grabs soon. Somehow, Dean has managed to not hear of his reputation yet.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t take part in the gambling and the abuse that occurs in the basements of The Belt. Where witches and sorcerers go to pit their Familiars against each other, who is stronger, who is weaker. He’s been lucky with his last hunter. Michael may not have cared much for Castiel, but at least he had the dignity not to use him for a profit. Last time Castiel was down there…he’d rather not remember.

“Where’d you go, Cas?” Dean asks once he’s parked.

“You have not heard of me before,” Castiel states. He’s not sure why he says it. Maybe he wants Dean to see because maybe he doesn’t know about all the corruption, all the sickness that accompanies working with these people. He has to know though, but somehow Dean seems so…innocent for a hunter in The Belt.

“No, why would I?”

“You’ve been with The Belt how long?”

“Since I was five. Well, I started training when I hit fifteen.”

Castiel nods, it’s strange that they haven’t met before.

“Do you know of the underground rings? The ones hunters use to pit Familiars against each other. Sibling against sibling. ”

Dean sighs heavily. “Yeah, I know. It’s hard to miss. It’s the only thing some hunters talk about. Used to get offers on Benny all the time.”

He doesn’t look happy about it, which spurs Castiel on. “I was thinking…I’ve had many hunters, Dean. I’m one of the oldest Familiars here. I’ve been bound here since…Raphael.”

“Dude, but that’s…”

“I know.”

“At least a hundred years.”

“One hundred and twenty three years.”

“You don’t look a day over forty,” Dean jokes, but it falls flat. Castiel smiles at the effort nonetheless. “Man, how have you lived so long? There’s just…I know Familiars who don’t make it through a day on the job.”

“I’ve learned how to survive. Back then, the hunters were respectful at the very least. Raphael was a sinister leader, but the hunters at his command did well in protecting us. We learned. We fought. What I’m saying is, I have been around a long time. I am one of the most skilled here. It seems to me that you are being kept in the dark. There are many famous Familiars at The Belt, have you heard of none of them?”

“I haven’t. Not really.”  

There’s a newfound respect in Dean’s eyes. Castiel chooses to ignore it. There is no honor in being a well-worn Familiar. If things continue as they have, then there won’t be much time left on his clock. The constant war, unending demons, it’s all very…tiring.

“It’s strange, Dean. Lucifer is planning something specifically for you.”

Still, Dean gets out of the car. “You coming?”

Castiel nods and follows Dean inside. They head through the main offices to the third floor where he met with Lucifer earlier. Hunters watch as they go, some looking at Dean, some at him. Only the hunters who are really into the business of fighting recognize him in his human form. They are the ones who do their homework, who will no doubt torture Castiel and prep him for battle if he were to ever bond with them.

Just the thought of bonding with any of those abominations makes his skin crawl. If there is anything he is afraid of, it’s being ordered to kill one of his family. The worst part is, he knows that he’d win.

Dean’s walking up to Lucifer’s office, there’s no going back now.

“Dean! So glad to see you’re well.” Lucifer is grinning widely. They’ve stepped into whatever trapped he’s placed, clearly.

“Thanks, Luke, Cas said you had news for me?”

“Yes, yes. Very important news. Sit down.”

Dean stares at the chair in front of him, and Castiel can see him make the decision not to sit down.

“I’ve been driving for a while, mind if I stand?”

“Not at all. Oh, you can leave.” Lucifer gestures to Castiel.

“Anything you have to say can be said in front of him,” Dean says firmly.

Lucifer is ruffled by this. He fidgets in his seat, his smile starting to wane. “Very well.”

There’s a tension in the room—Dean recognizes it, Castiel recognizes it, and he’s begging to see Lucifer recognize it. It’s the weight of a big lie in the room, one that Lucifer is about to unveil.

“As you probably already know, there is a war coming Dean. Those demons you saw? Not even the beginning of the front line. There are thousands, millions of demons preparing to rise up from the depths of Hell and feast on this world.”

Castiel watches as Dean swallows and his hands shake. He puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“This small company is not enough to fight them off, but you may be.”

“Me?”

“Yes, just you, you are my secret weapon.” Lucifer smiles proudly. “I just need you to…accept the terms and conditions.”

“What do you mean?”

“Say yes.”

Lucifer gestures to the door behind his desk. It opens, and an older man comes strolling out. His hair is a dark grey, and his eyes are…off.

“Hello, Deano.”

Dean hesitates, glancing worriedly from Castiel to Luficer. “Hey, man.”

“Dean, this is an angel.”

There’s a long pause of disbelief and shock from Dean. Castiel knows better that the man in front of them is no angel. “An actual angel? Wings and halos and all that. Like an angel of God?”

Lucifer laughs lightly. “Yes, of God.”

“Angels don’t exist,” Dean states plainly.

“Of course they do.” Lucifer laughs again in the quiet of the room. It’s an awkward sound, and it sets him on edge. Castiel believes in angels, but he knows that the man before him isn’t one.

“What does he need me for?”

“You’re the vessel for me, Dean. This old bag? He’s not meant for war, but you. You’re in top gear, ready to go. Ready for fighting the whole thing. So all I need is for you to let me in. It’ll be like…having a roommate inside your head. Won’t even notice I’m there, but when the times right, you’ll have all the power you could ever want to take down an army of demons.”

The man grins, wicked. He’s deceiving Dean, he’s something bad. Pure evil, a few steps above the average demon.

“Why can’t you use any other macho fuck in this building,” Dean replies, and Castiel’s grip becomes tighter. He can hear others, behind the door, waiting for his answer. Yes or no, they’re both in deep trouble.

“You’re it, Dean. There’s a certain criteria that must be filled, let’s say. Right blood type, purity, holiness, the whole thing.”

“I’m far from pure.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still the guy we need.”

Dean glances to Castiel for guidance. He has none, he tries to silently convey that whatever he says, it shouldn’t be yes.

He thinks Dean gets the message.

“How do I know you’re an angel?”

Castiel mutters “Christo” under his breath and the man’s eyes flash yellow.

_Azazel_.

Two people burst in behind them, Lucifer and Azazel take a step closer.

“Not an angel.”

“So? The rules still haven’t changed. I need your vessel.”

“You need my permission to what, possess me?”

“ _I_ don’t need your permission, but let’s just say someone does.” Azazel smirks and reaches out to touch Dean. Castiel practically growls, bringing Dean behind him.

“Oh, Castiel, you have an attachment to this one don’t you? What are you gonna do, huh? This boy can’t fly off with you. Might as well do what you usually do and scram,” Lucifer sneers.

He’s not leaving here without Dean, that’s for sure. But there is no way for them to get out using the doors.

“Dean, trust me.”

“O-okay.” Dean replies nervously.

Then, Castiel shoves him out the window.

xxx

Many things happen between the sound of shattering glass and Dean realizing he’s falling to his death. The first thing he sees is Castiel flying out the window, descending after him. In that millisecond, Dean wonders if he’s gonna try and lift him, which he obviously fucking can’t. He’s not a dragon, he’s a pint-sized raven that couldn’t carry a newborn child in flight, let alone Dean.

He sees the ground next, and there’s no doubt in his mind, he’s gonna die. Great plan, Cas. A+ idea.

His eyes close, in those few milliseconds, and in-between the window and the ground, something, no _someone,_ slams into him from the side, their arms wrapping around him tightly, bracing him for impact.  

Dean’s helpless as they crunch right on top of a red sedan, Dean cushioned by the soft airbag that Castiel made of himself.

It hurt like hell, but it was better than dying. Unfortunately, he’s not sure if Cas made it through that. What was he fucking thinking anyway?

“Go Dean, you need to go. Run,” Castiel croaks out from beneath him, his head at Dean’s shoulder. “Go, now.”

With some effort, he manages to sit up. Glancing all the way up to where Lucifer is looking down at the both of them with disdain.

“Go,” Castiel says with more authority.

God,  he’s not even sure how Cas is even alive, let alone bossin’ him around. “Come on, birdbrain, let me help you up.”

“Leave me,” Castiel whimpers as Dean lifts him.

“You’re coming with me, dumbass.”

Dean lifts Castiel, dragging Cas’ arms over his shoulders, and limps to the Impala, carefully setting Castiel in the backseat. He hurriedly climbs in the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

“Winchester!”

A gun goes off, followed by another. Dean doesn’t have time to see who’s shooting; he’s too busy peeling out of the parking lot as shots pepper the side of the Impala.

A bullet hits the window, and small bits of glass embed themselves into Dean’s shoulder and up his neck. Dean grits hit teeth in pain.

“Fucking hell.”

He steers Baby onto the street and speeds through two red lights. He drives, gas pedal to the floor. At some point, the bullets stop coming, and Dean lets himself breathe.

“You okay back there, Cas?”

He doesn’t get an answer.

 

 

 


	6. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and happy holidays!  
> greenk is once again awesome/amazing for beta-ing.

“Cas?” Dean tries again, suppressing the panic threatening to blind him. “Castiel?”

To his relief, there’s a small rustle of movement. It’s enough to calm him down, for now at least.

However, it doesn’t calm him when it comes to figuring out what the hell is going on. Angels, demons, or whatever the hell that thing was wants to possess him? Not to mention that war is coming? His life is starting to sound like a bad spin-off of _Constantine._

If only his life was a work of fiction, right now this is a nightmare. Benny’s missing, Luke is out to get him, Castiel is passed out in the back seat, and he basically had to tell Sam to fuck off.

Speaking of Sam…

“Hello?” Sam answers on the first ring.

“Sammy, yeah hey.”

What should he tell him? Just get the fuck out of town? That’s a little suspicious.  

“You alright?” Sam asks.

“No,” Dean answers honestly. “You need to get out of Kansas now.”

Well, looks like that’s what he’s doing.

“I was planning on leaving tomorrow morning, is that not soon enough?”

“No, something’s comin’ man. Just grab your girl and get going. It’s not safe around here.”

He can practically hear Sam’s curiosity through the phone, but instead Sam just responds with- “O...kay.”

“Good, you still at Bobby’s?”

“Yeah, he made me and Jess lunch, real nice of him.”

If only they knew how old some of the food in Bobby’s cupboard is. “Tell him to get off the grid too.”

“What?”

“Tell him to get out too,” Dean reiterates, hands tightening on the wheel. He needs everyone safe, so he can just focus on fixing all this.

He can hear Bobby on the other end arguing.

“What the hell, Dean?!” Bobby’s voice booms from the tiny speaker.

He can’t say much, not with Sam there. “Just leave, it’s not safe for anyone.”

“Dean-“

He hangs up. These are problems he can’t think about now, he’s got a job to do.

And the first part of that job is finding some place to hide so he can fix Cas up. The one bad thing about the Impala is that it’s easy to track. Real eye catcher. Usually he’d say that’s a good thing, but not when he’s being hunted. They made it clear they wanted _him_ for whatever job it is, either way he is angel or demon fodder if they catch him.

He drives for hours. Cas doesn’t move much, a small twitch here and there that reassures Dean he’s still alive. It’s frightening to see him so still, but if they run into trouble now, there’s nothing he can do for Cas, they’ll both be dead.

His whole body aches, the spell Cas showed him is starting to wear off. His shoulder hurts, his neck hurts, everything fucking hurts. He tries to cast the spell again, but the words don’t roll off his tongue as easily, so he finally stops at a random motel in Missouri.

He’s not as far as he needs to be, but it’ll have to do. He can’t possibly go any farther.

He goes to get a room, forgetting that his injuries are actually visible.

“Oh my, sir, do you need an ambulance?” the clerk at the desk says, eyes full of concern.

He puts on his best poker face. “Nah, I’m fine. Glass on my window broke, some kid threw a rock at my car.”

“The Impala?”  he asks, glancing out the window intrigued.

Dean smiles. “Yeah that’s the one.”

“You sure you don’t need any assistance? Your injury looks pretty serious.”

“Trust me, I’m fine. They just look bad, it’s less than a little paper cut really.”

The clerk hesitantly backs off, though there’s some suspicion. Dean ignores it, the ache shooting through his body is too mind numbing, he can’t comprehend anything more for now. He gets one room, two beds and goes to get Cas, who’s still unconscious in the back seat.

“Cas…Cas c’mon, I got us a room.” Dean shoves at his shoulder, his chest. “C’mon, Cas, I need you to wake up for me here.”

Slowly, Cas blinks awake, giving Dean a confused look.

“Hey, man, can you walk?”

Castiel shakes his head weakly. He’s pretty beat up. His right eye is swelled, right shoulder is completely inflamed, just looking at it makes Dean squeamish, and he’s attempted to stitch people’s guts back inside them before. Dean’s not sure how he’s even awake right now, he braced Dean’s three story long fall, he should probably be dead by human standards.

“Do you think you can…you know. Make yourself portable?”

Castiel stares at him for a long moment, if you can call it staring with Castiel’s eyes blurring and his head sagging. He nods, eventually. Slowly, Castiel brings his hand up, over his mouth, and Dean’s not sure what he’s doing when his other hand finds Dean’s sleeve.

“Cas, what are you-“

Castiel starts changing form, and he shouts, the sound muffled by his right hand. Meanwhile, his left is clenched tight onto Dean’s sleeve, and he can’t even begin to imagine whatever agony Cas is going through right now. Dean instinctually runs a soothing hand over Castiel’s fist.

The hand slowly falls to change into a tiny wing. It’s strange to see the process so slowed down. His whole body sort of collapses in on itself. It reminds him of the older destruction spells they taught him when he was a kid.

They used to give him a candle and tell him to take the fire from the wick. He wasn’t very good, but he remembers how the fire had imploded, sunk in on itself as Dean channeled the magic, like it was dying before exploding out in the control of his palm.

This is sort of like that. Castiel’s body sort of folds inward in a natural way, like a caterpillar going into its chrysalis, before emerging as a butterfly. Castiel, at his smallest form, changes. His entire body darkens, feathers replaces skin.

“You did good, Cas,” Dean tells him when he’s done. He looks so weak, even as a bird. His wings are ruffled, the feathers a sickly wet color, mixed with blood.

Carefully, Dean picks him up and opens the trunk of the Impala, finding an empty bag to stow Cas in to sneak him into their room.

Once in his room, he sets Cas on one of the beds and gets out the first aid kit. Everything hurts, and he’s not sure what the damage looks like quite yet. If it’s as bad as it feels, then the excuse he gave the clerk probably wasn’t good enough.

He staggers to the bathroom, taking in his appearance in the mirror. He doesn’t look good, hopefully the clerk didn’t call an ambulance, or worse, the police. His whole face is red with the pain, not to mention the splash of blood covering his entire right shoulder. He can see the little bits of glass covering the surface, and he grabs a pair of tweezers to get them out. At least he didn’t get hit by a bullet, then they’d really be screwed.

He pulls each shard out, piece by piece. It’s not as painful as it should be, but he’s distracted by all the other ways his body is shouting at him. He feels overheated, to the extreme. Like he just took a shower in boiling water, or fell into a fire. It’s so hot, he’s shivering.

Once all the glass is out, he doesn’t have much energy for anything else. He staggers to the bed and practically trips onto it, falling instantly into a deep, pain-filled sleep.

 

Xxx

Familiars have relatively the same durability as humans, maybe a little more. Castiel is surprised he is alive at this point. His whole catching Dean scenario didn’t go as planned. He figured he could plan his flight. If he flew down below Dean, then up, he could catch him and land on his feet. However, he did not predict that he wouldn’t get the chance to fly that low and instead had to go for the straight horizontal catch, which of course did not go nearly as well.

Either way, they’re both alive. Barely. Maybe not, actually. Given their injuries, Castiel will be surprised if they make it through the night.

Dean’s bed is a few feet away, but it seems like such a long distance when every bone in his body is pounding. Something must be broken, probably several somethings.

There are spells that could help, but he can’t cast them. He knows the art of healing spells better than anything, but has never had a true opportunity to use them. All his hunters, they don’t want him using magic. It’s stupid really, he doesn’t know why he studied those spells in the first place.

“C-C-Cas?” Dean’s voice croaks. “Cas-s-s?”

Something’s wrong. Dean was supposed to be the strong one for them here, and if he’s out, then they’re both dead.

He lets his body morph back into human form, it’s not as hard this time. His wings fall away easier, and his human form seems to have healed a little or maybe just adapted. It’s not much, but his legs aren’t so heavy, and he can actually see. It’s better than nothing.

“Dean? Are you alright?” Castiel manages to get out. His throat feels slimy and clogged, ill.

“Som..something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“I can’t…I can’t feel anything. Just…everything hurts. It’s so cold.”

Well, that’s far from good. And he’s all the way over there. Either way, there isn’t much Castiel can do. He can’t cast spells, he has nothing here that could treat Dean. He probably has a serious infection, given his wounds.

Still, he pushes himself up, onto his knees. The rooms spins with the motion, but he pushes on, swinging his feet over the side of the bed.

“Dean?”

There’s a muffled groan in reply. Dean’s curled in a fetal position, his hands appear to be shaking.

He drags himself to the other bed, places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. He’s still wearing Castiel’s coat, it fits him better than it did Castiel.

“I don’t…I don’t really wanna die yet, Cas,” Dean rattles out, shuddering violently.

Impulsively, Castiel runs a hand through Dean’s hair. It’s soft and wet, little bits of blood and glass caught in the hairs. He hopes it soothes him.

“I don’t really want you to die either.”

Dean laughs, a small choked sound. “Gee, thanks.”  He shivers in another violent spasm. “We’re really pathetic aren’t we?”

Castiel lips twitch. He hasn’t felt this much in a long time. Pain, amusement, sadness, fear. Somehow, Dean’s managed to make him care a little. It’s been so long since he’s truly cared, about the world, about anyone, anything.

It’s so rare that humans make an impact on Castiel. Well, maybe not humans, but hunters. They’re all the same, most of the time. Ruthless, driven, sometimes cruel. He had never lived during the days when man and Familiar willingly worked alongside one another, fighting evil as equals.

Dean treats him as an equal though, it’s a refreshing feeling. He can’t remember the last time, even of his own kind, showed him the same respect.

His hand finds its way to over Dean’s cheek. He is burning up, and at this rate, he won’t live long. There is no time to teach Dean how to channel his essence into healing himself, nor would he have the energy.

Dean must see the hopelessness in his eyes, because he leans into Castiel’s touch, a understanding look on his face.

Something in Castiel lurches and trembles. His eyes open wide and two things occur to him at once. He doesn’t want Dean to die, not now, not ever. And, he has a solution, a bad one, but a solution.

“Dean, do you know how the bond with your Familiar works?”

“My bond?” Dean’s gaze trains on him as he suppresses another shiver. “Was that when Benny and me did that blood ritual thing when they assigned us?”

“Yes, exactly. You may not know this, but you are loosely connected to Benny, in a magical sense. If you tried hard enough, I’m sure you would be able to sense him, maybe even contact him if your bond is strong enough,” Castiel explains. He can still feel Benny’s bond under Dean’s skin, it might be difficult to cut away, but he’ll need to for what he’s about to try.

Dean smiles shakily. “That’s cool, Cas. If I make it through this, maybe we can find him.”

“We’ll find him, Dean,” Castiel soothes, running his hands along Dean’s heated skin. He wheezes out a breath, his own strength failing him. He never thought in his many years he’d be considering what he’s about to do, but he sees no other option.

A full mind, body, and soul bonding ritual. It hasn’t been done in over fifty years, at least not in The Belt. Few hunters want to be tied to their Familiars in such a way, or anyone for that matter. Castiel isn’t even sure if he wants to, but it’s the only solution at this point.

“Your bond with Benny is basic magic, often called a partial bond. You are only connected by the words you speak and the blood you share. If we were to perform a full bonding ritual, I’m sure it would break my bond to Michael. I’d be able to use magic and heal you.” It’s a lot more complicated than that, but he doesn’t think Dean has the strength to listen to the whole explanation. Castiel doesn’t have the energy to give it either.

“What…what would happen to my bond with Benny?”

Castiel sighs, this is probably going to be the deal breaker. “It would disappear.”

Dean coughs, his whole body tensing. “Is there any way to…keep it?”

Castiel shakes his head.

If he could, Castiel thinks he would put up more of a fight, but Dean just bows his head in resignation. “I-I don’t think I really have a choice here. Either I die here right now, or I do this magic shit with you.”

“It’s far more than just simple magic, Dean, a full-bond means that I would put a claim on your soul, and you would to mine. You’ll be tied to me, mind, body, and soul.”

“Sounds kinky,” Dean laughs weakly.

If Castiel had the energy, he might roll his eyes or laugh. “Do you want to do this? Because right now, it’s our only option. Trust me, I’d prefer to just call an ambulance, but you and I both know Lucifer will kill us before we even reach the hospital.”

Dean stares, eyes serious this time. His breath slowly wheezing out of him. Clearly there’s no other option.

Dean, with shaky arms, pushes himself up in Castiel’s direction. “How does it work?”

“We draw matching sigils over our foreheads, then along the hollow of the throat and then in the center of the chest.” Castiel pats down Dean’s pockets, grateful that he’s kept a pocketknife on him. “We’ll place our hands on each sigil, then repeat the words, ‘micalp oiad manin monons gah-l’ as I say them.”

“Sounds like you’re reading this from a manual, Cas.”

Castiel smirks. “I think that is a good thing in this case.”

“Whatever you say man, let’s just get on with it.”

Carefully, Castiel begins etching the sigils into Dean’s forehead. A light scratch, he dislikes causing Dean more pain, but it must be done. There will be no scar from this, and it will be healed soon if all goes according to plan.

After he finishes the first symbol, he gently requests for Dean to open his shirt to access the hollow of his throat. The second symbol is easier, a simple loop inside of a circle. The third symbol in the center of the chest is a little more intricate. He takes his time, ignoring the sight of Dean’s exposed skin. The hunter doesn’t seem shy, but his wheezing breaths are audibly worse.

Once Dean is finished, he carefully etches the symbols into his own skin.

“Do they look okay?” Castiel asks. It’s a dumb question, since Dean doesn’t even know what they’re supposed to look like.

“Looks fine to me.”

“Alright, hold out your hand.”

Dean obeys, slowly offering his palm to Castiel. With the pocket knife, he slices Dean’s hand, then his own.

“Ready? Just repeat what I’m saying. The magic’s going to come from you, Dean. It might drain you completely, I don’t know. What I do know is as soon as it’s complete, I should be able to heal the both of us pretty easily, as I will be unbound from Michael. From what I know of full bonds is that they are very powerful, I’m not sure of all the side effects, but be prepared for anything.”

Dean grimaces, eyes blearily meeting Castiel’s. “Was all the blood really necessary?”

Castiel ignores the comment and places Dean’s hand on his head, before placing his own on Dean’s. He can feel the blood stick under his palm, and he takes a deep, calming breath. Ignoring the nauseating feel of blood.

“Micalp oiad manin monons gah-l” Castiel begins, his hand pressing firmer into Dean’s head.

“Micalp oiad manin monons gah-l,” Dean echoes, eyes closing. He can start to feel a hum through his hand, his ties to Michael shaking at the intrusion of foreign bonding magic.

Their hands move to the base of their throats where the second sigil is, and they repeat.

“Micalp oiad manin monons gah-l,” they say, in sync this time. The words flow off Dean’s tongue so naturally, he really is a true talent at magic. He picks up on the energy so quickly.

Michael’s bonds thrum, like struck guitar strings. Michael has no doubt noticed that his bond is being sawed at by now. The feeling is strong, like a living energy in the room with them. Dean surely feels it too.

His face is pinched, either in pain or concentration, Castiel is not sure. He can feel Dean’s energy slowly start to worm its way under his skin. It’s a powerful feeling.

Their hands slide slowly to their chests, where the last sigil rests. There’s a certain resistance this time. Especially with Dean, his hand trembles where it rests on Castiel’s chest, more violently than before.

“Mi- Mic-” Dean’s voice cracks and stops.

Benny’s bond is fighting Dean, Castiel realizes. He can feel it now, Benny’s bond, a rivaling magical force in the air.

“Let him go, Dean.”

“I-I-I can’t.”

“You’ll die if you don’t,” Castiel pleads. His hand, where it’s glued to Dean’s chest, is thrumming with power.

“No, Cas, he’s my friend. It hurts and I-” Dean stops, and Benny’s bond suddenly breaks away, violently.

Dean’s eyes widen in panic. “No, no, no. What if’s he’s dead? I can’t-”

“Dean!” Castiel commands, forcing Dean’s attention onto him. “It’s okay, given the manner in which the bond was pulled, Benny has probably gathered part of what’s happening. We will find him, Dean. As soon as you’re ready. Now finish the spell so we can get out of here.”

He should add guilt to the list of emotions Dean’s making him feel. That wounded look in his eye as Castiel gave him an order, it’s…uncomfortable.

“Mic- micalp oiad manin monons gah-l.” Dean finishes, and the power in the room triples. Light explodes beneath their fingers,  and Castiel’s entire _being_ suddenly feels too full. Holes that he never knew were there, now filled. Light pouring into the dark corners of his mind, everything sharp and clear. Even with all the filled spaces, he feels lighter somehow. Invisible shackles now removed.

He looks to Dean, and he already looks a lot better. Stronger, at least. Not on the brink of death like he had seemed minutes ago. 

Castiel tests his magic and feels his hands, pleased when they respond with an unnamable energy surging through his fingertips. His hands, still on Dean’s chest, pulse with energy ready to be used.

He chants a short incantation that pulls the skin together on all of the sigils, before making its way to Dean’s neck, where the skin is partially shredded.

Dean practically hums with relief as he is slowly healed. Castiel is pleased, he had missed using his powers. It’s been so long, it’s a wonder he’s not rusty.

“How much can these spells fix?” Dean asks, as his small shivers reduce to stillness. He clenches his hand into a fist, and grins when his hands don’t tremble.

“Not everything. I can heal what’s fixable,” Castiel tells him. Normally, healing this much might be a trying task, but Castiel hasn’t used his magic in so long, he is overflowing with it. “Broken bones, infections, open wounds. A bullet to the head or anything equivalent, not much I can do there. Healing serious injuries is very draining, healing magic can be…complicated.”

Dean smiles. “You’ll have to teach me sometime, man.”

“Healing spells are more difficult to learn than almost any other type of spell, be prepared for hours of reading,” Castiel tells him, moving his magical energy from Dean to himself.

The throbbing in his body had taken a backseat in the sight of Dean’s pain. With Dean healed, it’s front and center. Castiel can’t wait another minute to alleviate it. He chants, almost at a little too fast pace. Allowing the magic to rush through his own body, powered by his soul.

“That was fast.”

Castiel breathes a loud sigh of relief, letting the magic flow in and through his body. It’s a cleansing as much as a healing. The freedom he feels, even though he is still bound, is different. There’s no commands, no restrictions in this bond. He wonders if Dean still has the power to command him, if he chose. He doesn’t know all the rules to this. So far, it feels nothing like the other ties he’s had. It’s warm, welcoming. Not the looming commander behind the stage, ready to pull his strings and control him like the puppet he is.

Maybe it’s Dean, or maybe it’s just the way this bond works. Two men on equal footing.

“Should we get back on the road?” Dean asks a moment later, already jumping up.

“Careful,” Castiel warns. “You were dying less than twenty minutes ago.”

“Well, I’m not dying now, am I? We need to go.”

Castiel would rather sleep longer, but Dean is right. They need to go.

“Alright,” he agrees.

They pack up and check out in less than twenty minutes. Dean is cheery, and the feeling is contagious. He finds himself picking up on it without meaning to as they get back on the road.

“Oh, so you do smile,” Dean remarks.

“No.” Castiel forces the corners of his lips down, but somehow he can’t help them from twitching up in amusement.

Dean smirks, pleased with himself. “Clearly. Nothin’ wrong with smiling, Cas.”

“It’s the bond, your feelings are…shared with me to some degree,” Castiel says, unsure if he’s telling the truth. He knows he’s supposed to feel Dean’s emotions as well as his own, but he cannot discern which emotions are his and which are Dean’s.

A rush of excitement mixed with curiosity floods through him, and that is definitely Dean. He finds himself smiling again, reveling in fascination at this new experience.

“Dude, send some of your brooding my way.”

“You want me to dampen your mood?”

“Hell yes! C’mon, rain on my parade.”

He doesn’t want to kill Dean’s sudden and unwarranted good mood, so he ensures to emphasize his current feelings instead. He focuses on them, lightening his usual apathy over his emotions and letting them come to the front of his mind. His wonder, his fascination, the uncertainty all wrapped into one package.

He can tell when Dean starts feeling them, because his eyes get brighter, and he smiles widely. “That’s awesome. What else can we do with this…thing?”

Castiel grins. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think we can…hear each other’s thoughts so to speak.”

Fear spikes in his mind, well Dean’s mind. But he feels it as his own. 

“Hear each other’s thoughts?” Dean questions, with a firmer voice than before. 

“Maybe, most of the time with spells, what you say is what you get, Dean.”

“What do you mean?”

Castiel sighs, “The words we spoke, the direct translation is some variation of ‘let us tie our minds, our hearts, and our souls.’ I’m assuming that many things that were once our own are now shared.”

Dean frowns, and Castiel tries to ignore the displeasure running through Dean. He’s an open book if there ever was one.

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s a little hurt. He’s not that bad of company…well maybe he is, but he had thought Dean at least thought well of him, to some degree.

It’s not important, he can bury that disappointment.

“Hey, it’s not you, Cas, okay?” Apparently he didn’t bury it fast enough.

His face heats with embarrassment, being hurt by Dean’s feelings means that he cares about what Dean thinks of him, which he doesn’t.

“I just like my privacy, that’s all.”

He can understand that, Castiel values the privacy of his thoughts over nearly all things. “So do I.”

The fear and displeasure wanes, bringing Dean’s underlying cheer to the surface again. “Well, then if we mind each other’s privacy, that’ll be no problem.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to control it.”

Dean turns his eyes back to the road, his emotions gone from excitement to calculating. It doesn’t take long to figure out what he’s thinking because he soon starts to feel a…essence of sorts creeping around his mind. Not an intrusion, but an insistent sensation that Castiel recognizes as Dean trying to get into his head.

“That is you, I assume.” Castiel finds himself smiling. The whole thing is so new and exhilarating when Castiel’s life has seemed so boring for years.

Dean is smiling too, widely, brightly. All the misplaced levity the spell has brought forth must be a side effect, a magical high.

“Dude you’re a brick wall, lemme in,” Dean chuckles, the prodding at Castiel’s consciousness becoming more insistent. The mechanics of the bond have turned his mind into a new shape, no longer a private thought bubble in his own head, but rather a house with locked doors and hidden rooms. He can roam around, he can answer the front door and let Dean in. He can show Dean the main room, offer him something from the kitchen, a memory, a sensation.

He’s thrilled when he can offer Dean knowledge, it will make working together so much easier if Dean can learn spells faster.

He offers up the bonding spell to Dean, his knowledge of it, all his memories regarding it. There isn’t much, he’s only seen it done once, and in front of an audience. It seems oddly intimate compared to how he and Dean had performed the ritual. They were desperate and weak, doing what needed to be done for survival. The two from his memory had been planning and preparing for years.

Dean’s intrigued by his thoughts, and he pokes around some more in Castiel’s head. He lets him, there isn’t much Castiel has to hide on the surface, all he keeps away is hidden deep.

He takes the time to try and access Dean’s mind. It’s surprising that Dean had picked up on it so quickly, and while driving nonetheless. Castiel has a hard time finding where to go in his own head, the way to the neighbor’s in a way. He finds the answer in the bond, pulsing firm in his chest. It’s so much more vibrant than the others, a bright, new chain rather than a dull strand of yarn.

He follows it, and Dean’s on the other side. He has a magnificent soul, so intense it feels like he’s staring at the sun.

“Getting pretty into it there, Cas?” Dean says, glancing at his expression. Castiel ignores the jab, closing his eyes this time as he follows his mind’s eye.

If Castiel’s mind is an old house, then Dean’s is a playground of sorts. No front doors, just walk right in. He’s open and warm, like summer. His mind isn’t necessarily full of happiness, but there’s a certain lightness with his thoughts. Unlike Castiel, Dean appreciates all the little things; spending time with his few friends, having a beer, a laugh. All the little inconsequential things that most humans take for granted mean the world to Dean.

“So weird, man, I can feel you moving in my head.”

Castiel opens his eyes, and Dean’s face is heated with embarrassment. He’s smiling though, welcoming, so Castiel continues.

Everything comes through so clearly that when he sees where Dean keeps his demons, his entire body shivers in response. The dark patch that makes up Dean’s consciousness is not hidden, unlike Castiel’s. It’s clear, angry, loud. It’s a warning of sorts, rather than a locked door. The ugly memories, the pain, the secrets, all kept in one dark corner, screaming . A swamp that drowns anyone who comes near, Castiel wouldn’t touch them, it makes him feel better that both of their secrets are kept securely to themselves.

“Your secrets are safe with you, Dean. As are mine.”

“Dude, do you even have secrets? Your mind seems very…straightforward.”

“I suppose that’s one description,” Castiel admits. He can be blunt, upon occasion. There’s simply no reason to lie, most of the time.  “When I look at your mind, it seems…full compared to mine. You have likes and dislikes, favorite songs, memories, people you love.”

“C’mon man, you have that stuff too, right?”

He feels Dean’s uncertainty and his searching eyes as they probe his mind for these things. Castiel has few attachments or preferences. He has knowledge, if nothing else.

**_There’s more to you than that, Cas. I can feel it._ **

A shiver runs up Castiel’s spine. Dean had not spoken those words.

“Woah. You heard that right?”

Castiel smiles knowingly, replaying Dean’s voice in his head.

**_Yes, Dean. I heard you._ **

 


	7. Trouble in Misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the month and a half gap in updates. This chapter had to be rewritten on multiple occasions. Hopefully that will not be the case for the next chapter and I hope to resume weekly updates. Sorry again. Thanks to anyone who read or commented.  
> Thanks again to my beta greenk.

Dean drives for another eight hours before they stop again. They play with their new connection the whole time, both of them grinning like idiots. The air in the Impala is playful, and after eight hours alone in the car with Cas, he can confidently say he knows him better than he has ever known anyone. Which is really saying something because Dean likes to think he knows Bobby pretty well, but then again, he’s not _inside_ Bobby’s head.

Of course, there are a few things that leave him confused. For one, Castiel thinks there isn’t much to him besides his knowledge and skills. Cas must be blind to himself because he has a depth to him that Dean will probably never be able to fully grasp. He can feel it when he pokes inside Castiel’s mind, the weight of his thoughts, his words. Whatever he’s feeling, it’s strong. Heavy, is how Dean would describe it. It’s like there is some sort of fog over his feelings that is holding back a barrage of emotions, ideas, aspirations.

It’s as if he’s partially shut down, there’s a whole other side to him that he’s denying exists. He’d like to see it and for Castiel to see it too. But in the meantime, Dean can’t blame him. Who wants to spend a hundred years enslaved to a hunter? He’d probably seal himself away if he had that kind of future ahead of him.

Still, Dean can’t help but be proud of himself whenever he gets Cas to smile or laugh a little. It’s not a common thing for him, Dean can tell because of the innocent surprise that flows through Castiel whenever he so much as chuckles.

At some point, maybe he will turn the lights back on within and realize that there are parts of life worth living for, maybe Dean can help him see that.

Maybe this bond or whatever it is will get him to see it.

“Dean?” Cas says, bringing Dean out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Dean smiles, softening at Castiel’s concern. “Fine.”

It’s strange, being so suddenly in-tuned to another person, especially one he barely knew yesterday. Now, it feels like he suddenly knows everything. All Dean has to do is knock on Cas’s door, and then he’s walking into the museum that is Castiel’s mind. His thoughts, memories, knowledge, all on display.

Curious, he points to a random memory. Castiel gives off an amused vibe before showing him. It’s so clear, like the memory is his own, and for that moment, he’s Castiel. In this particular memory, he’s very short, and a child is offering him bread. It takes him a moment to realize he’s in Cas’s Familiar form in this memory. Castiel takes the offered bread, an appreciative ‘caw’ coming from his throat in response.

The entire memory is filled with amusement and fondness for that child as he giggled at Castiel. The colors are vibrant, happy. It’s only further evidence to the fact that Cas is more than just a database of knowledge.

Having seen the memory, Castiel then playfully points to one of his own, and Dean shares it willingly. It’s a relaxing afternoon, fishing on a pier up in Illinois after a hunt. There’s many afternoons like it, if Castiel were to poke around. Nothing special.

They play this game until they tire and stop at the next motel. They unpack their bags, and the playfulness from the car slowly dissipates, replaced by the tense knowledge that they’re both being hunted. A wave of exhaustion settles on his shoulders, the feeling mirrored in Castiel’s mind.

Feeling his emotions thrown back at him is a reminder that there’s so much more to this bond he wants to explore. The curiosity is nearly as strong as his exhaustion.

He reigns in it, knowing Castiel will probably want to sleep.

**_I am plenty curious, Dean. This is just as new to me as it is to you._ **

“Right,” Dean replies, feeling his face heat. “You’re so quiet poking around in my head. I feel like when I look into yours it’s like I have a cowbell on.”

“I suppose that’s a matter of perception then. You are not so much as loud to be as you are…bright,” Castiel says, pensive. “Let’s sleep, we will need to move again in a few hours and come up with a plan.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Tired, Dean doesn’t bother with a shower. He falls into bed, setting an alarm on his phone. Cas sits on the opposite bed, but for whatever reason, he doesn’t lay down. His eyes glance to the window, then to Dean, and he can feel the unease coming from him as he stands in the middle of the room, looking uncertain.

“Cas?”

His expression is tense, defensive. “Perhaps I should keep watch.”

“I think we’re okay, man, just go to sleep.”

For being the one to suggest sleep, Castiel is very unwilling. There’s too much stress wound in his shoulders, in the tense lines of his face. Dean tentatively reaches for Castiel’s mind, receiving a cold rush of worry in response. He tries to sooth it over, offering feelings of warmth and comfort to relax. Castiel seems to latch onto it, crave it almost. It’s not long before he gives in and slowly lays on the bed opposite Dean, pulling the ugly orange comforter over himself.

“Night, Cas.”

The Familiar doesn’t reply, just looks at Dean in careful observation, like he can’t quite figure him out.

“Thank you.”

Dean smiles. “No problem.”

He lets his eyes close, carefully forcing himself not to think of demons or Benny as he does. It’s easier said than done, especially since not thinking about them requires thinking about them in the first place.

Minutes pass, he yawns, presses into the bed more, but his exhaustion doesn’t bring him any closer to sleep.

With Cas’ bond still a heavy weight between them, he chooses that as a distraction. Castiel is a fast sleeper, his mind already on the brink of unconsciousness. Curious, Dean takes a peak. The link is wide open, he can just step inside.

What Dean finds is incomprehensible. As if he was trying to understand an alien language.

There are flashes, memories from the day that come and go so fast Dean can’t decipher them. He catches himself mixed in with them a few times, but the fast blur of images and colors does nothing to settle him. He retracts his connection, seeing only his own mind for a few minutes.

Castiel stirs, blinking lazily at Dean.

**_What did you see? I could…feel it._ **

Dean feels a little embarrassed getting caught, but there’s a good chance they’ll be in this…spell for a while. Better get used to all the intrusions and mind games. **_Nothing really. Just flashes._**

Castiel nods. **_You are tired, sleep._**

The bond stretches out between them once more, a strand of drowsiness being offered to Dean. He takes it gratefully, letting his body roll with the feeling.

He can’t explain the exchange of feeling and emotion, it doesn’t really make sense except _it does_. These trades come naturally, like Castiel is offering his hand to shake and Dean is simply taking it. While it might be awkward exchange physically, he only feels comfort by this strange form of intimacy.

With their minds in a strange latch, he dozes off. His peaceful sleep doesn’t last long, before an all too familiar voice that isn’t Castiel’s is waking up.

“I find it funny that I tell you angels exist, and you run. Do you really think that finding one human being is hard?”

Dean bolts out of bed, shouting as something clamps down hard over his arm. The pressure is like that of having his arm trapped under a car. When he finally processes, he sees that it’s just a hand. Luke’s hand. Lucifer, whoever he is now.

“Let him go,” Castiel says, voice dark and dangerous.

Lucifer just smiles widely and is completely unmovable as Dean shoves and writhes in his grasp. “You know, Castiel, of all hunters you have bonded with,  I’d never have thought you’d end up liking Dean Winchester. Gotta admit, you surprised me there.”

“Let him go before I tear you to _shreds_.” Castiel voice is deep and commanding. Terrifying. Talking like that, Dean doesn’t doubt that he will do as he says.

“How cute, how about I tear you to shreds while your boy toy watches, hm?”

Then, with the hand that isn’t holding Dean, he snaps his fingers, and Castiel goes flying across the room. He hits the wall hard, and his arm is bent at a disgusting angle.

“Tough little shit, hold on just one second,” Lucifer tells him, then his fingers snap again and Castiel practically screams.

His arm is twisted, definitely broken, if not irreparably damaged.

Dean stares helplessly as Lucifer snaps his fingers again, and Castiel cries out.  Helplessly, he seeks their link and is met with jumbled thoughts and Castiel’s pain dazed mind.

Then, without warning, Dean’s arm feels like it’s _on fire._

White hot pain, so intense, past the broken arm phase and right onto a whole new level. This is internal damage, his muscles being chewed and mangled from the inside. He looks at his arm, trapped firmly in Lucifer’s grasp, but it’s not hard enough to be doing _this._

“Stop being a wuss, Dean. I haven’t touched you.”

Lucifer waves his hand, and Castiel writhes from where’s he’s firmly trapped to the wall by whatever telekinetic abilities he’s casting.

A few seconds later, Dean’s feeling it. Castiel’s pain as his own, he realizes. His back, his spine, it feels like its breaking. The bone burning, turning to dust. His vision blurs, and he wonders how he’s still conscious.

He barely maintains coherency, his thoughts blending and merging into a jumbled mess of memories. The pain singing in his body, flowing through memories of him growing up with Bobby, fighting off demons, slaying monsters with Benny, familiar car rides with different passengers every second. Sam, Bobby, Benny, Castiel, repeat.

**_I’m sorry, Dean_** **.** Castiel says to him through their bond, and Dean has no idea how Castiel can even retain that kind of focus while he’s feeling this.

Lucifer’s perfect smartass façade dims, replaced with confusion, then transforms into rage.

“You little fucker,” Lucifer seethes. “You bonded to him, didn’t you? Not some wimpy thing, right? You went all out.” He points an accusing finger at Castiel.

Then suddenly all the pain is gone, and he’s lying on the floor at Lucifer’s feet.  He stands on shaky legs and watches as Lucifer lifts him Cas up by the lapels of his jacket and shakes him.

“How dare you claim what is not yours!”

Once he’s got his feet firmly under him, Dean launches himself at Lucifer. His weight seems to have no effect; he barely even jostles as Dean slams into him.

“Dean is not an object,” Castiel chokes out as a hand comes to his neck, squeezes.

The feeling is mirrored, Dean feels a warning at his throat, phantom hands around it. He pushes harder at Lucifer as the pressure grows, his breath coming out in short, pained pants.

He taps into Castiel’s mind, searching for an answer, but the pressure around his throat triples. Like Lucifer’s hands are choking him now, except his hands are still wrapped around Cas like he plans to tear his head from his neck. He gasps for air, and Cas pulls away from his mind sharply.

“Stop it, Dean. It’s embarrassing. Your little feathered friend here is spared for now. If he weren’t tied to you, I’d end him now, save us both the trouble. I must admit, you Castiel, are more resourceful than I thought.”

Lucifer’s hands drop, leaving both of them gasping for air at his feet. Dean glances to Castiel, eyes roaming over him for serious injury while Cas does the same.

“Strange though. You two have barely known each other and you already jumped to this?  Bonding your souls, I mean, that’s one hefty commitment there boys.” Lucifer grins as he leans down, staring at the both of them like they’re insects. Dean didn’t know his boss all that well, but this powerful being in front of him is not the same man who promoted him all those months ago. That man is gone, and how in the Hell did he miss the difference between this creature and Luke. How was he so stupid and blind?

The monster tsks’ at him and threads his hands into Dean’s hair. He jerks away, the skin on his scalp crawling from the contact.

“Dean, Dean, Dean. If you must know how you missed it, then it was because your boss has been planning this for years. Since he was born actually. Who names their kids Lucifer and Michael anyway?”

“So you’re actually _the_ Lucifer? The Devil?” Cas asks, and this is the real question. He’d said there were angels, but going up against the devil himself is a whole other ball game.

“I always preferred the title Satan to be honest. Or if you are one of my biggest fans The Morning Star is much less…intimidating don’t you think?”

There’s no real response to that, other than his blood emptying somewhere by his feet and the sudden emptiness in his gut. There goes all his hopes and dreams. Not that he had that many, but he always hoped he’d live to see thirty.

A hand comes to his shoulder, Castiel’s this time. It’s gentle and comforting, but there’s nothing to comfort.  He stares from the Devil then back to Castiel, who’s looking way too calm for just being told he’s on his shit list.

“Azazel, come. We have a…situation,” Lucifer says in a conversational tone.

Then the yellow-eyed guy is there, smiling widely at Dean like they’re best friends.

“Running didn’t work out too well for ya, did it, Dean?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You know, I really expected more spunk from you. Not this whole cowardly deal you got goin.”

**_I am going to distract them, you need to run._ **

Dean glares at Castiel, jaw clenching.

**_No you’re not, that’s fucking Satan, Cas, what’re you gonna do?_ **

**_He’s after you. I’ll be able to get away, Dean._ **

**_Shut up, Cas. I don’t know if you noticed, but whatever he does to you hurts me too._ **

“Lover’s spat?” Azazel says with amusement. “Pretty normal for newlyweds like yourselves.”

“Shut up,” Dean growls.

Azazel chuckles and glances between the two of them like they are putting on a show.

“Take both of them or just one?” Azazel asks with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know what they say about these kinds of bonds.”

“They don’t,” Lucifer replies. “Just take Dean.”

Castiel’s grip on Dean tightens as Azazel strolls over to them. It seems unrealistic that the bad guy is always smiling, but Azazel has that menacing grin practically tattooed onto his expression, and it only serves to unsettle Dean more.

“Alright, Dean. Say bye, we’re goin on a little trip.”  The demon offers a hand—as if he’s coaxing a small child—to Dean. He backs away, preparing for a fight, the words of an excorcism on the tip of his tongue.

Azazel’s eyes blink yellow, and before Dean can do anything, Castiel is lunging at Azazel, his hands digging into his neck. Dean follows him, throwing himself forward and joining Castiel. Azazel’s expression never wavers, even when Castiel’s hand begin to glow and burn from where they’re clenched around the demon’s neck.

Lucifer does nothing. Barely even notices as Azazel throws Dean to the side and pins Castiel to the wall.

“You really don’t know anything about this spell between you two, do you?” Azazel lifts Cas, and Dean watches in dread as he throws him across the room, smashing through a nightstand. There are small strikes of pain against his back, and he knows immediately they are not his injuries. “Together, you two could be an unstoppable force. But apart…”

He reaches over, taps lightly on Dean’s forehead.

“You’ll be weaker than ever.”

Then they’re gone.

Xxx

Sam knows that he’s being completely obvious with how nervous he is, but he just can’t help it. He’s worried, about everything. Meeting Dean? That had been…well, unexpected. At least it was a weird kind of closure that he didn’t realize he needed. But the panicked phone call telling him to get out of town made his already haywire nerves worse.

Jess was being awesome and not prodding yet, thank god, but Sam thinks that any minute now, he’ll either freak out or spill about how his brother might be some new form criminal. Or vigilante. Who knows.

It’s not just Dean’s panicked call, but the fact that in a few hours he’ll be meeting with Jess’s parents, and he’s not entirely sure how they’re going to react. He knows no matter what they say, he’ll still be proposing, but Jess’s parents have always been sort of indifferent towards him. Maybe they’re just shy people, which wouldn’t be a surprise, but he still gets the feeling they aren’t too enthusiastic about their daughter living with him.

“Sam?” Jess threads a hand through his hair. “You okay?”

He gives her a weak smile. “Yeah, fine.”

“You glad you met your brother?”

Sam hesitates before answering. “Yeah, I’m glad I met him. He’s…cool. I just kind of wish I had known him before now, you know? Or remembered him at least.” There’s guilt now though, knowing what he knows.  “He gave up a lot for me, and I never knew he even existed.”

“That’s not your fault, you can’t expect to remember anything from when you were a baby, Sam.”

“I know, I know.”

He stares back at the road, soothed by Jess’s touch along his cheek. The sun is fading into an orange, and they’re still another nine hours from her parents house, they’ll have to stop.

They run into an Inn about twenty minutes after driving past the sign that welcomed them to Ohio. They check in, and Sam practically falls into the room with Jess hanging onto his arm. It’s the usual bland hotel room, other than the strange smell. Like sulfur, it makes his nose twitch.  It’s not unbearable though, and he falls asleep easily with Jess curled up beside him.

“Heya, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes open wide. The voice is strangely familiar, although he’s knows he’s never heard it before.

“Remember me? It’s been a long time.”

Sam sits up in bed, Jess is still sound asleep beside him. His eyes travel to the dark shadow in the corner, a hint of light coming through the blinds highlighting his yellow eyes.

He hears himself yell at Jess to wake up, shake her awake, but she doesn’t respond and he looks back to the yellow eyed man.

“You’re dreaming, Sammy, impossible to disturb the little lady.”

“Don’t touch her,” Sam threatens, his voice dangerous.

“Hey hey, I’m not here for trouble.”

“What are you here for?”

To be honest, he just wants to wake up. But he thinks there’s something strange about this dream, a sense of control, and he feels awake. He can feel the tension in his hands and in his shoulders. His thoughts are clear, un-muffled like most dreams he has.

“Well, Sammy, if you must know, your big bro has…never mind. Anyway, I need your help, Sam. Need you to prepare for the big show.”

“What show?”

“Sam?”

He blinks, and it’s day now. Jess has a light hand pressed to his forehead. His shirt feels damp, and his head hurts like crazy.

“Jeez, what were you dreaming about, Sam? You’re sweating bullets.”

Sam takes a deep breath, his head pounding. “I don’t know.”

He thinks of the yellow eyes, staring him down in his mind.


End file.
